


Deja Vu

by memeberd



Category: Captain Underpants Series - Dav Pilkey
Genre: Mr. Krupp/Edith the Lunch Lady (Captain Underpants) - Freeform, Mr. Meaner, Mr. Rected - Freeform, Mr. Reeted (OC), Mr. Rustworthy, Ms. Hurd (OC), Ms. Hutchins - Freeform, Ms. Ribble/Ms. Anthrope, Sneedly Triplets AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 12:22:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12080994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memeberd/pseuds/memeberd
Summary: A REWRITE OF GETTING USED TO CHANGEYep, after nine whole chapters, I decided I wanted to start over. If you're familiar with the "first draft" you'll PROBABLY find some pieces that were copypasted from it and into this one. But other than that, this story's appeared to take a different shape. I personally like how it's changed.





	1. ReDo

“Alright, let’s rewrite the origin issue!”

“I dunno if I _can,_ George! We put so much effort into the first one, there’s no way we could do what we did again!”

“There’s no comic rules or laws that says it has to be exactly the same as the one Mr. Krupp tore up. Plus, _I’m_ the writer, and the writer says _this_ version of the origin issue is gonna be different, so NO dolphin parents!”

“ _HOW COULD YOU SAY THAT?!_ ”

“We have to reinvent Captain Underpants, Harold, no dolphin parents. But you can still choose who his parents are - _go!_ ”

“Uhhh, uhhh, dads.”

“Dads?” George watched Harold nod. “ _Two_ dads??” Harold nodded more vigorously. “You mean like, a guy married another guy???” Harold nodded vigorously once more, a smile plastered on his face.

“Yeah!” 

“Wha…” George looked very perplexed. “Guys don’t like-like other guys!”

“Sure they can, my mom said that’s how my dad is.”

“Huh, guys can like-like other guys.”

“Yeah!!”

“Wow.”

This is George Beard and Harold Hutchins, George is the further enlightened kid with the flat-top and tie on the left side of the treehouse, lying upside down on a hammock. Harold is the tired kid with the t-shirt and bad haircut on the right, semi-burrowed under two sleeping bags on the rug. It was a Sunday night, and George and Harold were busying themselves with getting lost in the fictional comic worlds they created together. 6:00 PM, they were soon going to be running out of time before they were _supposed_ to go to bed for school tomorrow. 

“Well, how about this, we’ll do a script version first and then we can rest until tomorrow.” George proposed, somersaulting out of his place on the hammock.

“I like the sound of that.”

Harold snuggled himself further under the sleeping bags while George shuffled near on his knees. Once George felt he was close enough to Harold, he dragged a nearby spiral notebook by its corner into his lap.

“Pencil.” George outstretched his hand to Harold like a doctor performing surgery. Harold smiled and pulled a dulled pencil from the depths of his golden curls and placed it in George’s hand. Harold’s smile melted away.

“Wait, hey, if there can’t be any dolphins in this version of the origin issue, then _you_ can’t just say Cap’s home planet blew up _‘for some reason’_ this time!”

George touched the eraser side of the pencil to his bottom lip. “Okay, okay, that’s fair. ‘For some reason’ isn’t the deepest explanation for a planet to blow up anyway.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes.

“Yeah, we’re gonna establish some more villains, but, who are they?” George asked no one in particular. Well, it was open for Harold to answer. But the question was mostly directed at himself.

“Hmm,” Harold’s eyes thoughtfully scanned the roof of the treehouse. “Oh, I got one; alien invasion. A group of aliens come down and destroy Underpanty World.”

“Yeah! Evil Aliens, but, it needs something else, somebody needs to lead them,”

“Why don’t we reuse a character?” Harold rolled over to face George. “Wedgie Woman only got one comic.”

“That’s right! We could _totally_ use her again!” 

“Wait, no we can’t, Cap was a baby when Underpanty World blew up.” Harold rolled back into his previous position. “Wedgie Woman and Captain Underpants are like the same age, she can’t be there with the aliens.”

George opened his mouth to speak and closed it again. Harold was right. 

“ _Aw man,_ plothole…” George was nearly willing to make that plot-neglecting sacrifice, but there had to be a way to include Wedgie Woman and have the story still make sense. George already knew what he wanted to do with their ramshackled wrongdoer; a native to Underpanty World who went rogue. But why? And it had to explain why Wedgie Woman was already an adult while Captain Underpants was only an infant and remained exactly the same as she was now when the Captain was old enough to rescue innocent citizens. Finally, George thought of something. “How about this, Wedgie Woman was born and raised on Underpanty World but she went rogue in exchange for immortality. There! Now that she’s immortal she can still be around to fight Captain Underpants in the future!”

“Wow,” Harold whispered. “That’s brilliant. You’re brilliant, George.”

“D’aww, c’mon,”

“No, that’s mindblowing, that’s so deep! Wedgie Woman and Captain Underpants being from the same planet, and she let everyone die, just, wow… no wonder she hates Cap so much!”

George pressed a finger to Harold’s lips. “Shshshhshh, I gotta start writing this now Harol.”

 

_“ **Captain Underpants the Origin Issue**_

_A long time ago… In a galacksy far, far, far-far-far, FAR away… There was an even more far away planet called Underpanty World. Underpanty World was a plase where everybody flew around in their underware. It was a peaceful and seclooded sosiety, everyone was frendly with eachother, and nobody new or questioned what excisted beyond the atmosfere. And no one outside of Underpanty World new the planet even excisted. BUT… There was one person who did… but not yet…”_

George heard the silky scrape of the two sleeping bags ruffling over eachother, Harold had slipped out. He crept behind George’s back and leaned his weight against him, resting his chin on his shoulder, unabashedly watching the writing process. George let his head lean against Harold’s. He continued to write. 

_“Wedgie Woman was the most smartest lady on Underpanty World. All her friends alwayse came to her for ansers to the questions they couldnt anser._

_Friend 1: “Why do arm pits smell bad?”_

_Friend 2: “Why do cats like to eat ear wax?”_

_WW: “Hmm...”_

“Cats like to eat earwax??” Harold asked over George’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” George confirmed, “it’s nasty.”

“Why do they like to eat earwax?”

George set his notebook and pencil down, he turned to face Harold. Harold respectfully backed away a few inches. “Why would I know that?!”

“Because Wedgie Woman knows the answer and we made Wedgie Woman!” Harold explained.

“Yeah, _we_ made her. So do _you_ know then?” George sternly asked.

“No that’s why I’m asking you!”

“I’m tellin' you I don’t know, Harold!”

“Alright, alright.”

“... It’s a grooming thing.” George finally said.

“YOU _DID_ KNOW!” Harold grinned.

“I hate it.” Those were the words of a man whose earwax was eaten by a cat without his permission.

Harold grinned wider. “You’re a gross ear picker.”

George scoffed, raising his hands in defense. “My ears get _itchy, Harold!_ ”

“You pick your ears!” Harold chuckled.

George was scowling now. “Your ears get itchy too!”

“YOU PICK YOUR EARS AND FEED IT TO THE CATS!”

“AUGH!!” George was absolutely revolted at the thought of such an action. “STOP! They actively seek out my fingers after I scratch my ears I’m a _victim!!!_ ”

“George, you know I love you and I won’t hold it against you that you pick your ears. Just don’t pick _my_ ears.”

George tossed his head back with a cackle, reaching for his spiral notebook and punctually slapping Harold with it. Harold shrieked and toppled over limp bodied as if the Hulk swatted him away like a pesky fruit fly. He laid there, splayed on his back feigning unconsciousness.

“If you don’t mind, I’m gonna get back to writing now.” George said, smiling smugly.

“ _I, trusted you, George, ugh!_ ” Harold wheezed as George leaned back on Harold’s stomach. “George you’re deflating me.”

“What are _you_ gonna do about it, Cheeseball?” George heckled, keeping his eyes on the script. Harold stayed where he was and wrapped his arms around George.

“I _will_ have my revenge, Fluffy,” Harold said, “but not yet.”

George went back to writing, unconcerned with what Harold was planning.

 

_“She was so smart that she was embarassed to ware her underware infront of other people._

_WW: [standing with a bunch of people and trying to cover herself up] “This dosent seem rite to me!”_

_So she invented Streetclothes™._

_WW: [wareing a dress, more clothes are on desplay behind her] “Everybody try it!”_

_Person 1: “What in skivvies?!”_

_Person 2: [trying to put a shirt on like pants] “I dont undertsand these clothes?”_

_Person 3: [trying on a pair of pants like there a shirt] “I CANT SEE NOTHIN!!”_

_WW: “You’re not wareing them rite you dum dums!”_

 

George was unable to repress a few giggles. Harold was impatient to read more of what his friend was writing, but how comfortable he was overwhelmed the former emotion. He kept hugging George and let his eyes shut.

 

_“Unforchinatly, Wedgie Woman soon became a outkast to the peple of Underpanty World._

_WW: [alone] “Aw, man”_

_And everywere she whent, she got funny looks form everybody that pased her by becase she prefferred to keep her patented Dress™ on._

_WW: [passing by a person and frowning]_

_Person: “WHAT in SKIVVIES?!”_

_So as time went on, Wedgie Woman got sick of her life on Underpanty World. She was sick of the lak of proffit her patnted Streetclothes™ brot her._

_[Wedgie Woman is siting alone with pyles of clothes that she made for everyone, shese frowning because nobody wanted them]_

_She was sick of a culchure she coudnt connekt with._

_WW: [stands on the grownd and watches whyle everybody else flys abuve her in their underware]_

 

“Oh no,” George gulped, briefly looking up at the ceiling, “I feel bad for Wedgie Woman now, what have I done?” Harold reached his hands out from behind George.

“What’s wrong lemme see!” Harold said. George placed the notebook in Harold’s hand and covered his eyes. Harold shoved George off of his stomach with his free hand and closely scanned over every word of the script he hadn’t read yet. George watched Harold’s face closely and chuckled with him when he repeated “ _What in skivvies?!_ ” and watched closer as Harold neared the sequence that George felt guilty over. “Oh! You mixed up the o and the r on ‘from’ right here,”

George smiled sheepishly. “Thanks, could you mark it for me?” Harold took the pencil from George’s hand and circled the two misplaced letters before reading on.

George watched Harold poke out his bottom lip. “Aww, poor Wedgie Woman!”

“Yeah, I think I gave her too much depth, I feel bad for her.”

Harold looked up at George from the script. “Let’s try not to think about it too much then.”

“Yeah, yeah. She’s the villain.” George pinched the notebook between his thumb and forefinger impatiently. “Can I have it back?”

“It’s all yours, Author Beard.”

“I’m almost done.”

“I shiver with anticipation, George.”

George stared at Harold and slowly shook his head. “Don’t say that.” Harold laughed. George scowled. “ _Spongebob._ ”

“ _You’re_ Spongebob!!”

George ignored Harold’s powerful retaliation and went back to writing.

 

_“Soon, she became sick with haterd and she hated everything!_

_WW: [making an angry fase at the reader] “GRRRR!!!”_

_She hated art_

_WW: [shaking her fist at the Mona Lisa in a bra] “GRRRR!!”_

 

George laughed imagining Harold’s inevitable reaction when he learns that he had just been requested to draw Leonardo DaVinci’s Mona Lisa. In a bra.

 

_“She hated music_

_Whitney Hyoostin in fashonable underware: “AND IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!”_

_WW: [shaking her fist at Whintey Hyoosten] “GRRRR!!!”_

_She hated fine literachure._

_WW: [taring a book in half] “GRRRR!!!”_

_And she hated her nayber Steve!_

_Steve: [waving at WW from outside on her lon] “Hows it shakin, Wedgie Woman?”_

_WW: [shaking her first at Steve from her window] “GRRRRR!!! GET OFF MY LON STEVE!!”_

_But most of all…_

_WW: [looking up at the narrashun in confushon] “Huh?”_

_Wedgie Woman hated Underpanty World!_

_WW: “O thats rite!”_

_One night wyle Wedgie Woman was sulking in her living room, her TV turned on by itself!_

_WW: [watching her TV turn on in surprize] “GASP!”_

_Paralized with fere, she closley wached as the skreen fizzled and popped into focus!_

_[An alien pops onto the TV screen]_

_Alien: “Nanu nanu!”_

_WW: “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!”_

_Alien: [reeches out the screen to shoosh WW with his tentacle arm thingy] “Shoosh”_

_WW: “Ok.”_

_Alien: “I am General”_

____

____

“Hey Harold what’s a good alien name?”

Harold was silent for a moment. “Uhhh,”

“Nevermind I’ll just reverse Robin William’s name.”

“Good idea.”

George went back to writing.

_“Alien: “I am General Smialliw”_

 

George let out a frustrated sigh and erased “ _Smialliw_.”

 

_“Alien: “I am General Nibor. My skwadron and I have been observing you for months, Wedgie Woman, and have konkluded that you are the anser to our queschun!”_

_Wedgie Woman couldnt beleve her eyes!_

_WW: “B-b-bubba bobba hob-hobba-hobba wawa”_

_GN: “Yyyyeah, ANYWAY, my home planet is into conkwest and destruchon, that kinda thing. Underpanty World’s bin on our bucket list for eeons but we cant find it! But now we know, YOU can show us!”_

_Wedgie Woman was conflicted. Underpanty World was her home! Shurley she woudnt betray it so easely!_

_WW: “Hmmmm, I donno…”_

_GN: “Well give you anything you want PLUS being spared from a splodey demize!”_

_WW: “O.K.”_

_Dangit Wedgie Woman._

_One week later…_

_BOOM! CRASH!_

_[A bunch of reporters are chasing Big Daddy Longjohns and Princess Pantyhose down a hallway]_

_Reporter 1: “Big Daddy Longjohns!! Can you explain what’s happening to our planet?”_

_Reporter 2: “Is there anything we can do to stop it?!”_

_Reporter 3: “What should we do!?”_

_[Big Daddy Longjohns and Princess Pantyhose are standing infront of a poduim]_

_BDL: “Our planet is blowing up for some reason!”_

_PP: “We cant stop it, everyone must evacuate!”_

_WW: [unseen] “I CAN TELL YOU WHY YOUR PLANET’S BLOWING UP!”_

_BDL and PP: “WEDGIE WOMAN!”_

_PP: “If anybody could answer our kwestion, it’d be you!”_

_WW: “This is payback for all the years I spent in ridiqool! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!!”_

_BDL: “Oh, Wedgie Woman, you have betrayed our people!”_

_WW: “They’re YOUR people! I never fit in!”_

_[a robo claw comes down and skoops Wedgie Woman up into a UFO]_

_WW: [from the UFO] “SO LONG, SUCKERS!”_

_Princess Pantyhose and Big Daddy Longjohns were scared, but that wasn’t going to stop them from being the best leaders they could._

_PP: [crying] “We must wate until everyone has evacuated!”_

_BDL: “Everyone, including the only air to the Longjohns Empire.”_

_PP: “Big Daddy, we can’t lose our Baby Underpants.”_

_BDL: [embrasing PP] “That’s why we must let him go in case we dont make it, dearest.”_

_[Baby Underpants is sleeping soundly in his krib, Princess Pantyhose picks him up, Big Daddy Longjohns puts a dogtag around thier babys neck]_

_Servant: [bursts into Baby Underpants room behind BDL and PP] “WE’RE OUT OF ESCAPE PODS!!!”_

_BDL: “Todd how are you still here to tell us this!?”_

_Servant: [crying] “I BROKE IT!!!!”_

_Big Daddy Longjohns and Princess Pantyhose new what they had to do._

_PP: “There’s only one way we can save our baby now!”_

_They went to the emergentsy slingshot and stretched their babys underware real far and shot him out into space!_

_PP: “SOB!”_

_BDL: “Godspeed, my son!”_

_BU: [flying away from a sploded Underpanty World] “WEEEEEEEE-”_

_BU: [flying past the moon landing] “EEEEEEEEEE!!”_

_Soon little Baby Underpants fell to Earth._

_Dad 1:”_

 

George recognized that since Harold came up with the idea of Cap’s new parents, he should get to name them as well. “Hey, Harold! What are Cap’s dad’s names?”

“Jackson and O’Hara.” Harold replied.

“I like it…” George erased “ _Dad 1_ ” and replaced it with “ _O’Hara_ ”

 

_“Ohara: “Jackson! Did you see that?!”_

_Jackson: “See what?”_

_Ohara: “Lets go check it out!”_

_Jackson and his husband Ohara ran out of their barn to investigate._

_[Caps dads are running through a corn feild]_

_They intsantly fell in love when they saw the fase of there gift from above bundled in a cape._

_Ohara: “My! What a cute baby!”_

_Jackson: “Lets adop him and finnaly have a child of our own!”_

_Ohara: “O.K.”_

_And when they took him home…_

_Jackson: [holding Caps dog tag] “Hey, what’s this?”_

_They found a dog tag that said…_

_[Caps dog tag says “UNDERPANTS” on it]_

_Ohara: “Underpants! What a silly name!”_

_Jackson: [holding cap who isnt rapped in his cape no more] “Don’t worry, baby, will give you a better name!”_

_So they named him “Captain” after their favourite cerial_

_[Ohara and baby cap are sitting across from eachother at the brekfast tabel, a box of captain crunch is in front of Ohara]_

_Ohara: “Hi, Captain!”_

_Cap: “Hi!”_

_The baby grew up fast._

_[Full grown Captain Underpants is standing in the middle of the pannel while his dads watch with dadly pride]_

_Some one from ofpannel catches Caps atention: “LOOK! Up in the sky!”_

_[A buss is crossing a brige]_

_Buss kid 1: “Its a bird!”_

_Buss kid 2: “Its a plane!”_

_Buss kid 3: “ITS AN EGG SALAD SANDWICH!”_

_ESS: “That’s right! And these eggs are ROTTEN! MUAHAHAHAHA!!” [brakes the brige with his strength]_

_[the buss is headed for the oshan now]_

_Buss kid 2: “Oh NO!”_

_Buss kid 1: “Who will save us?!”_

_Cap: [from offpannel] “I WILL!”_

_[Cap is flying across the next panel]_

_Cap: “Faster than a speeding waistband!”_

_[Cap flies to the aid of the school buss and streches his underware to act as a make shift brige]_

_Cap: “More powerful than boxer shorts!”_

_ESS: “You’ll never catch me, Captain Underpants! HAW HAW!” [flies off and gets himself cott in a wedgie ontop of a sky skraper] “OWIE!!”_

_[Cap bounds and leaps over the sandwitch]_

_Cap: “Abel to leep tall bildings without getting a wedgie!”_

_[Cap lands next to a police officer]_

_Police: “Good for you pal, now put some clothes on you weirdo!”_

_Cap: “HAHAHAHAHAHA! No way!” [bursts off into the air at the speed of sound]_

_Cap: “I fight for truth, justice, and all that is preshrunk and cotteny! For I am…!”_

_CAPTAIN UNDERPANTS!_

_Meanwhile…_

_[WW draws a flower on the curent day on her calender]_

_WW: “Ahh, today marks my thirty seventh year of being free from those stuborn, cotton-wearing halfwits!”_

_Wedgie Woman was loving her new immortal life on Earth, until…_

_TV: [disterbs WW from her calender] “This is channel seven news comming live to you with signs of a super hero who calls himself Captain Underpants!”_

_WW: “WHAT?!” [skribbles a line down her calender]_

_Reporter on the TV: “A schoolbuss full of children neerly fell into the oshan until the super nachral man in nothing butt a pare of tidy whiteys and a cape interveened this morning!”_

_WW: [standing clossly infront of her TV] “Tidy whiteys?!”_

_Reporter: “Hears what a few wittneses had to say.”_

_Kid who was on the buss 1: “It was so awesome!! Captain Underpants stretched his wasteband and saved the day!”_

_Buss driver: “I thot we wuz gon die”_

_Kid who was on the buss 2: “My dog thru up, ate it, and thru it back up again!”_

_Back to thereporter: “Well be back with more at 10.”_

_Wedgie Woman was flabergasted!_

_WW: “CURSES! One of them escaped, but how?!”_

_Wedgie Woman ponderd for a while, but for the very first time in her very long life, she couldn’t figure out the anser._

_WW: [pointing at the narashon] “WHATEVER! I’ll stop him myslef!!”_

_WW: [smiling evilly at the reader] “I’ll find that Captian Underpants and I’ll put an end to his nerely-naked hyjinks at all costs!!!!”_

_**And thus began the Adventures of Captain Underpants.** _

_**To be continued…**_

 

“Done!” George announced.

“That’s great, George!” Harold cheered, sitting up on his knees. “Lemme-- _REVENGE!!_ ” Harold pounced and pinned George to the ground. George squealed and defensively bonked the top of Harold’s head with his notebook. Now that George’s arms were up, Harold mercilessly tickled his friend’s torso. George squealed with laughter, kicking at Harold with his socked feet.

“ _NOOHOHOHOHOO!_ ” George wailed. “YOU MONSTER!!” He screamed again as he felt Harold’s fingers latch onto his ankle. “NO-WAIT- _NONONO!!_ ”

“I’ll teach you not to kick your best friend!”

“ _HAROLD NO!!_ ”

Harold only managed to effectively tickle George’s foot for three and a half seconds before getting kicked in the face by his squirming and cackling friend. “Ow!” Harold cupped his chin.

“Aw, no!” George sat up and watched his fluffy friend rub at his chin. “Are you okay, Harol?”

“Yeah I’m fine.” Harold grinned. “ _UCK!_ ” George knocked Harold over with the force of a battering ram and forked Harold’s stomach with his fingers. “ _AHAA!_ ” It hurt, but he was laughing anyway. Harold’s toes swiped for the back of George’s knees. George was visibly offended.

“Oh, NO you don’t!” George’s fingers dove for Harold’s neck. Harold laughed like the honk of a car horn and reflexively tucked George’s fingers inbetween his jaw and collarbone. “OUCH!” Harold untucked his jaw.

“I’m sorry are you okay?” 

George flexed his fingers. “Yeah I’m fine. No more tickling, what time is it?” He got up and walked over to the digital clock sitting beside the TV.

Harold yawned. “Too late for you to, time for you to, too late for us to be tickling, time for you to-”

“Pick one!” George exclaimed.

“GET A WATCH YOU HIPPIE!”

George would have laughed, but he saw that it was now _8:59 PM_. The knowledge that it would be bedtime by their parent’s order at any second settled in George’s stomach like a clump of stale bread.

“Is it nine?” Harold asked with melancholy.

George sighed. “Almost.” He padded slump-shouldered across the _Treehouse Comix Inc._ rug and plopped down beside Harold. The two best friends leaned against eachother, frowning at the ground, bodies fitting perfectly together like two stray lego pieces. 

Now, you know school, it makes swaths of children sit for hours and all be treated the same. Unfortunately for that system, children are all tiny individuals brimming with their own energy, their own thoughts and feelings and interests. Harold and George were two kids with the most energy and imagination out of any at their own school. And children like George and Harold just weren’t made for the school environment, to put it simply. At school, a child was to expect that they’d be met with lectures, standardized tests, packets that would take days to complete, and teachers that simply didn’t care for the students they were surrounded with. You know how disheartening it is to be in that kind of environment when you just want to write about the things you like and draw whatever comes to mind. Well, the company that George and Harold provided for eachother was what made this environment survivable for the both of them. If George hadn’t met Harold, he would have begged to skip a few grades and shorten his school experience. And, if Harold hadn’t met George, well… he would have probably become a neighbor to those students who hide in their lockers all day. Like poor, poor Tommy.

Since the very first detention they spent together, George and Harold found solace in eachother; they kept eachother sane in an overwhelmingly _underwhelming_ environment. From kindergarten to the fourth grade, they supported and kept eachother happy. George made up Harold’s world and Harold made up George’s. Now, they had to do without that company. Currently, the weekends were the only time that George and Harold could spend their whole day together like normal. It’s just not as satisfying to have to sneak off together during lunch, recess, hiding in unoccupied lockers that sat next to eachother, or in the out-of-order bathroom stall, out of Principal Krupp’s sight, just to _talk_. Only having spent four whole days out of two entire weeks did a number on the boys’ psyche whether it was noticeable or not. But their parents knew, and they ached because “George was always a social and outgoing boy, but he never wanted to go on playdates with any of the friends he made at school, until he met Harold.” and “Ever since my ex husband and I split up, Harold shut like a dead clam and every morning before school I saw my baby was crumbling, he wouldn’t talk to me, and he wouldn’t talk to his therapist, and then George moved in.”

Yep, they were eachother’s miracle, as unlikely as it sounded. So, for Pete’s sake, Harold and George deserved to spend the night together in their treehouse every Sunday! (As long as they promised they’d go to bed on time.)

“Man, I don’t wanna go to bed just to have to go back to school…” Harold mumbled, cheek squished up against George’s.

“You know, our parents won’t be able to tell if we stayed up a little longer.”

“We might as well.” Harold yawned again, eyes closed.

“Don’t fall asleep on me, Harol.” George warned.

“I have a hard time staying awake when I feel sad.” 

“Well, look at it this way then, we got ‘till June and then school’s out for the summer!” George piped back up. He leaned forward to smile at Harold and patted his friend’s hand. Harold sighed.

“Yeah, but… That’s so far away George,”

“No it’s not!” George pressed on, trying to remain optimistic. “We only have like, let’s see… Half a month, and then one more month! We only got a month and a half of school left!”

Harold groaned, dropping onto his back. “George, months are _long!!_ ”

Harold spoke the truth, months had too many days in them. And so did half-months. George had nothing now. He flopped onto his back beside Harold. “I know they’re long Harold I was trying to look at the bright side of it!”

Some of the defeat in Harold’s eyes faded away. “Didn’t we say all this before?”

“Huh?”

“All that, what we just said, I thought we already… Said and did all that before.”

“I do repeat myself alot. How many weeks has it been since Krupp separated us?”

“ _Two._ ” Harold’s voice cracked.

“No, Harol, don’t cry!” George pleaded, turning over on his side to face his friend.

Harold wiped his face. “I wasn’t gonna cry!”

“I’m not sayin’ you’re lucky or anything because not being around eachother is torture,” George started, “but atleast you have Marvin and Lewis in your class.”

“Oh, no, I’d say that’s pretty lucky. Maybe you should ask Mr. Krupp to separate you and Melvin next.”

“Can I trade you Melvin for Marvin?” George asked with a smirk.

“Go fish.” Harold sat up, eyes scanning the floor for the spiral notebook that George had scribed their script in. “Hey I don’t wanna talk about school anymore, okay?”

“Alright, no more school talk.”

“Ah!” Harold found the notebook and snatched it up. George watched him read. Mostly anticipating Harold’s reaction to his new requirement to draw the Mona Lisa in a bra.

\---

“WAIT A MINUTE!” Harold shouted after finishing George’s script. “You copied the ending from the ORIGINAL origin issue and then added a new ending after it!”

“Yeah I liked that part, didn’t you like that part Harold??”

“I ALSO liked the FARMER DOLPHINS!” Harold snapped.

“Aww, _Harol!_ ”

“So you’re telling me we _didn’t_ actually have to replace Cap’s dolphin parents with Jackson and O’Hara?!”

“Ah, whuh--whuh--well,” George sputtered.

“ALSO, you spelled O’Hara wrong.” Harold was scowling. “AND, you spelled Captain wrong right here!!!” Harold was jabbing his index finger into the last page of the script where instead of “Captain” it said “Captian.”

“GEE, I’LL FIX IT!” George exclaimed, hands up in the air. “Why are you so mad?? You even said you weren’t sure if the dolphins were good-weird or BAD-weird!”

“YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO SUPPORT ME WHEN I SAY THAT!” Harold wailed.

“NO I’M NOT! I’M YOUR _FRIEND,_ NOT A SUCKUP!”

“Well, I see how it is then.”

“Harold.”

“Well FINE!” Harold rethought George’s statement about friends not being the same as suckups. He crossed his arms. “That just, hurt my feelings.”

George bit back the urge to say “I noticed”

“What do you have against dolphins being in our stories anyway??” Harold asked for the third time. George sighed like a deflated balloon.

“Harold, I _don’t_ have anything against dolphins I promise. It’s just that as the writer, I think Captain should be raised by humans.”

“I thought it was cute, and our stories never make that much sense to begin with! Cap doesn’t have to be raised by humans.” Harold argued.

“Well, _I_ want him to be, I’m sorry Harold. But that’s why I let you make up his new parents and name them! And you see, I think they’re even better than the dolphin parents.” George shuffled over to his friend and draped an arm over his shoulders. “Jackson and O’Hara are positive representation for guys who like-like other guys! And I didn’t even know that was possible until now, Harold. Jackson and O’Hara raised a _superhero_ , and that’s some pretty good parenting if you ask me. And it’s all thanks to you.”

An embarrassed giggle escaped Harold and he hid his face from George by smushing his golden hair into George’s chest. “I was pretty put on the spot when you asked me who his new parents were, I’d say it was just a stroke of luck.”

“I’d say _you’re_ my stroke of luck.”

Harold giggled more into his knees. “Aw, _George!_ ”

“You feel better?”

George couldn’t see, but Harold was grinning from ear to ear. “Yeah,” His eyes were closed as well. Harold snored.

George disappointedly watched Harold’s curled figure slowly rise and deflate. “Tired when you’re sad, huh?” He mumbled, resting his chin over the many soft layers of Harold’s thick swirled mass of yellow hair. “I’m the opposite…”

Times like these had a different effect on George than they did on his friend. George was sad, too. He knew he’d miss Harold most of the following week. But, it really could have been worse, he thought. Harold could have ended up without the other two members of the Sneedly family in his new class. George could tell Harold liked Marvin and Lewis alot, and yeah, they were great compared to their brother who Harold and George were already oh so familiar with; _Melvin_. That nerd’s name alone kindled a frustrated flame within George’s very soul. _Confused_ , was the first word that came to George and Harold’s minds when they thought of the boy. He wouldn’t notice the abuse of their school if a teacher physically punched a student square in the nose infront of his oversized pine green glasses. He wouldn’t even recognize it was abuse if a teacher punched him square in the nose and he hadn’t done anything inherently wrong! Perhaps it was heavy stockholm syndrome the freckled kid had. Always kissing up to Ms. Ribble and their Principal, always keeping an eye out for fellow students who were misbehaving. George and Harold had been ratted on by him ever since he and his brothers moved in from New York in the second grade. Well, Marvin and Lewis were the same way. The kissing up part, not the part where they snitched on other kids. That was what puzzled George. Why was it that Lewis and Marvin could mind their own business but Melvin just couldn’t keep his mouth shut when another kid was doing something as plain as cutting in line?

And not only was _that_ a problem, George slowly shook his head with his eyes closed, he sided with Professor Poopypants on ridding the world of laughter! Melvin was ready to betray and cause misery to their entire world at that sad sack’s side! George then remembered seeing Marvin giggling at his and Harold’s shenanigans, he remembered Lewis chortling at the sight of a match on fire, _Melvin was ready to take that feeling away from his own brothers_. But why?

Suddenly it hit him. He thought of his own new development of Wedgie Woman. Betrayal of a culture she couldn’t connect with, being teased over her differences… Could it be that Melvin… _Couldn’t_ laugh? At all?

George could easily think of things that caused the other two Sneedlys to giggle with glee; mouthfuls of sour gummy worms, burning dead leaves with a magnifying glass or scraping a match ablaze, mismatched letters on a sign to make it say something silly rather than its original intended message, cats that made them sneeze, the garbled squawk of a crow standing too close, the success of a brand new mechanism they’d endlessly worked on and tested for days until inevitable and _sweet_ sweet success onstage at another Invention Convention. But what did Melvin enjoy? What made Melvin laugh? Was it nothing at all? Did Melvin feel he didn’t belong like the way George had written Wedgie Woman?

Sure, George and Harold recognized Melvin didn’t find any of their jokes funny, they were very familiar with the feeling of Melvin rolling his eyes with resentment while George and Harold laughed for minutes on end at one silly joke. But Anti-Humor Boy was just a jab at that; Melvin not having the same taste in humor as they did. Harold and George didn’t actually think that Melvin couldn’t laugh at all. But now, the more that George overthought, that started to look like a real possibility.

When George was _too_ deep in thought about Melvin, Harold spoke, muffled. “I know I said I didn’t wanna talk about school anymore but I’m scared about tomorrow.”

“You were snoring like three seconds ago,” George blurted, visibly caught off guard, “you’ll be okay, Harold.”

Harold lifted his head off of his knees to face George. “I was snoring?” He was now wide awake and his eyes sparked with disbelief. “No I wasn’t!”

George chuckled. “Yeah, you were!”

“I don’t snore.”

“How would you know that?”

“I don’t snore!” Harold repeated.

Harold’s smile went away when he noticed they went completely off topic.

“Wait, but George, I’m really scared about tomorrow.”

George stood. Harold watched him walk over to the previously ditched sleeping bags, one partly gathered in each hand, and dragged them back over. He smiled and tossed both of them over Harold’s head. George plopped down on his backside next to Harold and uncovered his friend, taking in how a few golden curls broke free from the main mess and spiraled out in different directions. He pet his friend’s unruly hair. “You got nothin’ to worry about, Harold. You have Marvin and Lewis.”

Harold reached up and took George’s affectionate hand in his, softly stroking the back. “No, I mean, I can sit through class no problem, especially with those two around, I’m worried about _you_.”

“Huh?” His hand twitched and Harold’s strokes stopped. His hand settled over George’s.

“You don’t have anyone like Marvin and Lewis in your class, and, you’re always complaining about Melvin! I’m worried Melvin’s gonna drive you insane, George.”

“Okay,” George crossed his arms, “I’ve just been really stressed over how the entire school staff’s been celebrating us getting put in different classes, for like, two weeks now.”

“Aw, yeah,” Harold leaned forward, resting his head on his friend’s shoulder, “I know how you feel. You know, it’s been two weeks. Maybe they’re all burnt out now.”

“I dunno, Harold. I know I’m usually the optimistic one but I have a bad feeling about that.” George felt the snorkle of Harold’s snoring against his shoulder. “ _Harold?_ ”

 

“HAROLD!”

“ _What?!_ ” The messy haired boy jerked awake, shoving himself away from George’s chest.

“WE FELL ASLEEP!” George lamented.

“WHAT?!” Harold frantically looked around, blinking away the remaining traces of sleep. Rays of sun as gold as a fresh, cold peach bled into the treehouse through the windows. “Wha-?? It was nine something two seconds ago!”

“Well I was runnin’ outta things to talk about!” George explained. He slipped out of their sleeping bag nest into the crisp air and checked their clock. 6:34 AM. “Well there’s two other things now.”

“What’s that, George?”

“Well one I drooled in your hair and I’m very sorry about that.” 

“Aw,” Harold felt his hair and shuddered at the slimy sensation that caked a knot. “Aw _man!_ Now I have to take a bath...”

“Actually three things, two, it’s 6:34 so you’ll have to shower fast”

“Aw MAN!” Harold scowled at George. “WHY’D YOU HAVE TO DROOL IN MY HAIR GEORGE?”

“I can’t tell if my mouths open or not when I’m sleepin’!” George defended himself. “Oh, right, real quick, three, I’m takin’ our script to Melvin for an experiment.” Harold, mystified, watched George fiddle with his tie.

“What… Kind of experiment?” Harold asked.

George grated together two parts of his tie’s fabric. “Well, I was thinkin’-”

“George he’s driving you insane.”

“ANYWAY!” George snapped, dropping his tie and letting it hang, “I noticed some similarities between him and Wedgie Woman while you were snorin’ last night!”

“Don’t do it, George!!” Harold warned, hopping up and rushing to his friend. He gripped at George’s tie and pulled him closer. “You’ll start sympathizing with him like we did with Wedgie Woman last night!!”

“Pfff,” George rolled his eyes inches away from Harold’s face, “no, Melvin’s an irredeemable traitor to the entire human race. I just wanna see if he relates to Wedgie Woman.”

“I mean, _she’s_ an irredeemable traitor to all of Underpanty World so why not?”

Harold and George laughed. Their laughter died down to giggles. Their giggles slowed to a stop, smiles sagging, morning grogginess finally hitting them.

“Welp,” Harold was dreading their departure.

“We didn’t spend enough time together.”

“Maybe we could shower together.”

George shook his head profusely. “We haven’t reached that stage in our friendship yet.”

“Okay, _I_ could shower and _you_ could sit outside in the bathroom and we could talk some more.”

“We don’t have that kinda time on our hands, Harold.”

“Fine.” Harold turned away and headed for the window facing his own house. “See you in six hours then.”

“We _have_ recess and lunch!” George shouted after his friend who was already gone and hopping onto the lawn chair in his backyard. He sighed and plucked their scripted draft of _Captain Underpants the Origin Issue_ off the rug and closed it before swishing the curtain door of the treehouse open and scaling down the ladder.


	2. Chapter 2: The Chappening

The morning was especially chilled; it was overcast, and after twenty minutes of Melvin’s insistence that he didn’t need an extra layer of clothing - that his vest would keep him warm enough, he found himself shivering in the 7 o’clock breeze beside his two older brothers who were more bundled than him.

Melvin quietly shook like a malfunctioning robot marching to school with his brothers, he rubbed his arms for warmth. When that didn’t work, he sucked his arms into his vest like the common turtle for warmth. And when that didn’t work, Melvin rubbed his arms under his vest. He hugged himself, then gave up and popped his arms back out. “It’s so cold, _why is it so cold?_ ” Complained the youngest Sneedly.

“Shouldn’t your vest be keeping you warm?” Lewis snapped through his faded banana-yellow scarf. Melvin stared at Lewis, holding himself and trembling like an autumn leaf. Lewis’ eyes narrowed when he realized Melvin was trying to give him the big doey-eyed _“Gimmie yer scarf”_ stare, he kept a steady glare to assert his dominance.

“We’ll give you the baby brother pass.” Marvin budded in, setting down his backpack along with the the extra books Lewis was unable to store in his messenger bag, let alone _hold_ now that he had extra luggage in his hands for the impending school day, and pulling the orange, scarlet and navy blue striped extra sweater he donned for the chill morning over his freckled head. “Here ya go!” The middle Sneedly said, holding out the thick article of clothing heaped up in his fist to his shaking brother.

“Thanks, Marv.” Melvin chattered, dropping his backpack and briskly slipping the pre-warmed shirt on after yanking it out of Marvin’s hand.

Lewis tucked the old knitted scarf under his chin. “Marvin you can’t just give him everything he wants you’ll spoil him!” He chided, watching his two brothers slip on their backpacks and Marvin plucking Lewis’ textbooks off the ground afterward.

They went right back to marching for their school. “Lewis, he was cold, it was a simple mistake!” Marvin said.

“It’s only 39 degrees and we’re headed for school.” Lewis argued. “PLUS, how’s Melvin supposed to handle receiving the consequences that come along with careless mistakes when you’re out here keeping him warm?”

“ _I’M LITERALLY THE SAME AGE AS YOU TWO STOP ACTING LIKE I’M THREE!!!!_ ” Melvin cried out, snatching Marvin’s and Lewis’ attention away from eachother. 

Lewis, being in front of the herd, whipped around to face Melvin and say; “You’re the youngest by an hour.”

“You’re not gonna raise yourself.” Marvin added.

“ _That’s why we have mommy and poppa._ ” The youngest Sneedly growled. “And _you guys_ can’t raise yourselves _either!_ ” Melvin looked over Lewis’ shoulder at the skillfully preserved night-feathered corvid corpses in his hands. “Why are you bringing your taxidermy raven and crow to school?” He bitterly inquired. 

“Ms. Hurd’s subbing for our class today and we’re doing show and tell since she’s not allowed to teach any real subjects.” Marvin explained.

“Lewis is gonna teach everybody how to distinguish ravens and crows from eachother.” The oldest Sneedly added.

“Huh,” Melvin looked to his right at Marvin. “What are _you_ bringing?”

Marvin’s eyes lit up behind his square framed glasses. “Why, I brought Sulu, of course!” 

“Aw, smart choice!” Lewis commended. “Our first successful test with Patsy, Sulu could be an advertisement for her.” 

“Where’d you put him?!” Melvin asked.

“He’s keeping warm in my pocket.” Marvin said, lifting up the bottom of his magenta sweater to reveal the furry head of a groggy brown hamster poking out of the left pocket in his shorts. “Aren’chu, Suwu? Who’sha shweepy boy?” Marvin affectionately reached down with a finger and softly stroked the top of Sulu’s fuzzy head. “Are you gonna make a buncha fwiensh at schoow today?” Melvin rolled his eyes, one of the most embarrassing things in the world was how Marvin baby talked animals. They could understand him just fine if he talked to them like a normal person! Marvin recovered Sulu’s head with the bottom of his sweater. “Good Suwu.”

Lewis switched his focus away from the taxidermy crow and raven in his arms and up at their approaching elementary school backdropped by a cloud-white sky. “Lewis heard it’s supposed to get warmer today.”

“I hope so,” Melvin said, tugging at the bottom of the sweatshirt his brother had lent him. “this is the ugliest sweater I’ve ever seen, and I thought that pink one was ugly!” Marvin, in his magenta knitted sweatshirt that he frequently wore, frowned at Melvin.

“ _Hey!_ ” Marvin whined.

“Harold and George are waiting for us up ahead.” Lewis announced, he pointed to a lone grey powerbox sitting in a sea of dead grass ten feet away, crow and raven stacked in one arm.

“Huh?” Marvin tilted his head, staring in the direction of the powerbox.

“You need to clean your glasses.” Melvin said.

“No wait a minute!” Marvin giggled, pointing at the powerbox next. “I can see Harold’s hair poking out! They’re hiding from us!” Melvin blinked his eyes, staring at the grey metal box just a little longer, and there, right behind it, peaked the very top of Harold’s golden mass of curly hair. It rotated, signifying that Harold must have turned to talk to his friend. 

“What do they think they’re doing back there?!” Melvin asked.

“They’re trying to do us dirty by jumping out and scaring us.” Lewis concluded without any further thought.

Marvin shuddered with excitement. “Shall we turn the tables and scare them instead?” He suggested.

“We shall, we shall, _we shall!_ ” Lewis trumpeted, and the two older Sneedlies giggled before racing partway with the younger and tiptoeing the rest of the way so Harold and George wouldn’t hear them. The soles of their shoes crunched tenderly upon the dead grass, as they drew closer Marvin could sense the two hiding boys reeling up like jack-in-the-boxes in preparation for the Sneedly Triplets passing by. Lewis reached his arms out and stopped Marvin and Melvin in their tracks, likewise, the crunching stopped. Melvin and Marvin were confused, they wanted to catch them off guard with no delays! But soon they realised Lewis was aiming to confuse and coax the rascals out. Surely the pair of pranksters were thinking _what gives! Melvin, Marvin and Lewis should have passed by now!_ How rewarding it was to see the two haphazardly peak their eyes above the surface of the powerbox, even more haphazard for Harold because his knotted cluster of wild tangly hair added half a foot to his person. The Sneedlies jumped forward together, unleashing their nastiest roars into the atmosphere. Harold and George stood on their knees and screamed in baffled horror, George covering his ears and Harold flopping backwards into the dirt that surrounded a smaller radius of the box they hid behind.

“WHAT WAS THAT FOR YOU _SNEEDLYS!!!_ ” George shouted, uncovering his ears to toss his hands in the air. “ _ARE YOU TRYIN’A KILL US?!!_ ”

“We saw you two hiding and we decided we’d scare you instead of you scaring us!” Marvin explained, dumbfounded.

“Hiding?!” Harold cried out, getting up and trying to brush the dirt off of his back and butt. “We were just waiting here for you guys!”

“Oh, please, we’re quite familiar with your antics you two!” Melvin rolled his eyes.

“We’re serious!” Harold insisted.

George stood and pulled Harold up by an arm. “Yeah it takes us like ten minutes to get here! We weren’t about to stand in _one place_ for twenty more!!” 

“Huh, Lewis was wrong.” Lewis said.

“Gosh, sorry fellows,” Marvin said, rosy cheeks a deeper red than usual.

“Yeah _you’re_ sorry, if we knew you guys were gonna do that we would have sat _on_ this electrical box thingy.” George snapped.

“It’s okay, Marvin,” Harold budded in, leaning his weight against the powerbox, “you got us good.” George glanced between Harold and Marvin who shared a smile.

“Alright, I can’t believe I’m saying this but let’s get going to school. Harold and me only have so much time to hang out together in the lockers before the bell rings.” George said, picking up his skateboard which had been lying beside him. Harold did the same.

The herd of five headed forward, eyes on the school infront of them and the line of students reluctantly feeding into the front double doors of the bland school building.

George and Harold developed a new habit when entering school now, and that involved slugging along in line with the Sneedlys in their company; if any teachers asked why George and Harold were together once they got inside, one of the Sneedly brothers could respond with “We’re escorting them to class.” and the teachers would _believe_ them! It was pretty much true anyway, and it also gave the two best friends more time together before class began. In addition, Lewis and Marvin’s company was nice.

“‘Scuze me,” George said, cutting into the left half of the line.

“So sorry, so sorry,” Harold did the same behind George. No one complained, it’d take them longer to get to school and that was a good thing. Lewis took a spot beside Harold, Marvin beside George, and Melvin trailed behind. The five boys were ten feet away from the front double doors, now sandwiched between swarms of hunched and downhearted kids their age, all trudging to the same location; Jerome Horwitz Elementary.

“Hey, Lewis, are those taxidermy crows?” Harold asked, pointing at the lifeless feathered creatures cradled in the arms of the oldest Sneedly.

“This one’s a raven.” Lewis carefully wiggled the larger bird in his arms.

“Oh,” Harold stared at their glassy eyes.

George turned around to face Harold and Lewis, slowly traveling backwards with the rest of the line. “Those are gonna get confiscated the second you walk into school.” He warned.

“No they’re not, Ms. Hurd’s our substitute today and she’s having us do show and tell.” Lewis explained. Harold’s eyes bulged.

“Mine’s a surprise!” Marvin declared.

“ _Show and tell?!_ ” The envy was evident in George’s voice.

Harold touched the tip of his skateboard to his chin. “ _Ms. Hurd is subbing!!?_ Aw man, I’m _so_ not prepared, we’re doing show and tell and I didn’t even bring anything!”

“I think I can help you with that, Harol,” George said and he sandwiched his skateboard inbetween his legs, slipping one strap of his backpack off of his shoulder and swinging its body infront of himself so he could unzip it and pull out the script he and Harold had worked on the night before. He waved it one-handed above his head for all to see. “What I hold in my very hand is the script for _Captain Underpants the Origin Issue!_ ”

“Oooooh!” Marvin gawked through his square frames at the tattered spiral notebook.

"Nice." Lewis congratulated.

“Yeah, it’s pretty sweet,” Harold delighted in the sight of all three Sneedly Triplets so intrigued with their work. "We actually had the whole comic finished at first but Mr. Krupp tore it to shreds, that’s gonna be the new and improved version." He explained to the Sneedly Triplets. Marvin and Lewis nodded.

“Why didn’t you guys write an origin issue for your hero _first?_ ” Melvin asked.

“Sometimes it’s best to get to know your character before you write their backstory, _Melvin._ ” George snapped.

“Yeah, shut up _Melvin._ ” Harold added, twisting backward so the nerd could hear him better.

Melvin’s nostrils flared and he scowled ahead at a chuckling Lewis. Lewis calmed himself and shot his baby brother an amused toothy grin. Melvin only scowled more. The swath of slouched students infront of them continued to slog forward along the cracked old cement sidewalk at a suffocatingly slow pace. The tiny herd of five moved along with their peers. A cool breeze rolled over the stream of kids, Harold’s teeth chattered reflexively.

George tried to hand the script to Harold. Harold pushed it back. “What? You can present it to the class and talk about all the stuff we changed!” George said.

“Nah, you have a mission. Plus, I came up with a better idea.” Harold dipped his fingers into his hair and pulled the end of a pencil out before slipping it back in, wiggling his eyebrows. George squeaked out a giggle.

“That’s perfect! Quiet fives,”

“Quiet fives!”

“What’s the origin issue about?” Lewis asked. 

“Yeah! Are you guys gonna beta test the draft by having us read it?” Marvin added.

George’s face immediately lit up. “All I’m gonna disclose is that you get two origin stories for the price of one.” He said. “Oh, we should write that down on the cover, Harold, could you hand me a pen?”

“Sure thing, George.” Lewis and Marvin watched Harold’s fingers dip into his mass of blond hair and retrieve a ballpoint pen from the curled depths. He softly tossed it in George’s direction like a throwing knife. George caught the pen and let his spiral notebook fall open, scribbling “Two origin stories for the prise of one!” in a page above the body of the script.

“What was that doing in your hair?!” Lewis asked.

“Easy access.” Harold said.

Marvin was unable to restrain his giggles. “Y-you could have just put it behind your ear.” 

“Like a normal person.” Lewis added.

Harold raised his eyebrows. “If I shook my head right now seven pencils and four pens would fly outta my hair. You don’t get storage like that behind your ears. Oh, can I borrow some pens and pencils?”

“Sure! I can’t set anything down to do it yet.” Marvin agreed.

George leaned to look at Melvin from inbetween Harold and Lewis. “Anyway, I was hoping _you’d_ read it first, Melvin.” 

“Awwww!” Marvin’s head tilted so his cheek touched his shoulder.

Melvin stared at George like he was asking him questions in a foreign language. “Really?”

“Yeah!” George smiled.

“Oh, is Anti-Humor Boy in it?” He asked, appearing shockingly excited to read the story.

“How does he know who that is?” Harold softly asked George. 

George shrugged. “I dunno,” he quietly rasped back. “Melvin, do you read our comics?”

“Oh, yeah! I’ve read most of them.” Melvin puffed his chest out in a dignified manner.

“Huh.” George was surprised. “Well, yeah, I just wanted to see if you’d relate to the villain in here.” He tapped the surface of the notebook. Melvin’s chest deflated immediately.

“Aw…” Marvin became conscious of his tilted head and leveled himself out.

“I’ll read it then.” Melvin said, suspiciously unharmed by George’s jab.

“Alright, cool!” George smiled at Harold. _Success!_

“Since you guys are showing us your creation today,” Lewis began, “why don’t we show you guys our creation today as well?”

“ _Your_ creation?” George asked.

“Oh, yes, we spent alot of time on her!” Marvin answered.

“ _Her?_ ” Harold asked.

“The whole year it feels like,” Melvin added. “We’re going to finally present her at this week’s Invention Convention!”

“Why not?” George said. “We’ll check it out at lunch.”

“Did you guys make a robot girlfriend or something?” Harold asked, voice thick with suspicion.

“NO!” All three of the Sneedlys cried out.

“You’ll just have to see!” Melvin said.

“Is it a robot mom?” George asked.

“NO!!” All three Sneedlys shouted.

“You’ll _see!_ ” Lewis exclaimed.

“Izzit a robot _sister?_ ” Harold asked.

“ _NO._ ” The Sneedlys groaned.

“YOU’LL. _SEE._ ” Melvin repeated.

“ _Robot maid like from the Jetsons??_ ” George prodded.

“ _NO!!!_ ” The Sneedlys whined.

“STOP ASKING, STOP ASKING, _STOP ASKING!_ ” Lewis demanded.

“ _You guys couldn’t be more wrong with your guesses,_ ” Marvin added.

“Jeez, we’re just curious,” Harold said.

\---

The boys’ eyes wandered along the dispersion of the line of children into a disorderly crowd, wandering off into their own destinations; classrooms, bathrooms, their lockers, the playground. George’s eyes fell on the forecasting board near the main office. For two weeks now, the board simply read: “ **DEAR HAROLD HUTCHINS, FAREWELL MY FRIEND! - Signed, Ms. Ribble** ” for every inhabitant of the school to see. Now, no one else knows this, but the staff had _originally_ planned to plaster the light-hearted-aggressive message on the sign that stood infront of the school instead, but Mr. Krupp had recognized that people don’t always remember what’s on that sign because it’s not inside the school where they would frequently pass it throughout the day, so therefore it wouldn’t be as powerful and humiliating. Truth be told, sometimes _he_ forgot and he’d find himself asking Edith, _the secretary_ Edith, _Ms. Anthrope_ Edith, for a reminder on what it read in case it was important. So, there it sat to be admired any time of the day. And today, _the Monday of the third week of the message’s existence,_ that board _still_ wished Harold au revoir by his ex-teacher.

“Great!” George gestured to the board, not hesitating to rush to it. “They still haven’t changed the stupid _board!!_ ” Harold was quick to join George’s side, glaring up at the message on the board, and then the Sneedlies came and stood between them to lower any suspicions of passing adults.

“Huh, it looks like they’re so determined to milk the victory of separating you two that they’re neglecting to use the forecasting board properly.” Melvin announced, pointing to a poster on the left dedicated to displaying information about the upcoming Invention Convention. 

“Does _that_ say anything to you Melvin?” George asked, pupils pointing sharply at the nerd beside him in the multi colored striped sweatshirt. Melvin’s eyes remained on the Invention Convention poster.

“Yeah, it says the convention starts this Saturday at 8 AM and ends at 9 PM and that everybody’s welcome to enter as long as their invention’s original.”

“ _NO THAT’S NOT WHAT I--_ ” George errupted before catching himself mid sentence. “Everybody?!”

“Yeah, this week’s convention is different; anyone can enter but they can only showcase one invention!” Marvin explained.

“Wow, it sounds like this Invention Convention could actually be fun!” Harold shouted over the sea of Sneedlies between himself and George.

“But,” Lewis piped up, “but _all of them_ were fun.”

“For you guys!” George said. “For everybody else?? We’re bored outta our minds!”

“Yeah,” Harold agreed, “you guys are smart and all and you deserve to be recognized for your talent in engineering things but it was really overkill, you guys were the whole show!”

“Of course we were, _we_ started the school petition to get the whole thing going.” Melvin boasted.

“I still can’t believe Mr. Krupp was into it.” George said.

Melvin had puffed himself out again. “Welp, that’s what you get when you’re an honor roll student.” 

“I wonder why they changed the structure of the event now.” Marvin wondered aloud.

“Let’s not wonder _too_ much or Mr. Krupp might change it back.” Harold warned.

Lewis turned his head to Marvin, leaning in close. “We should get to class soon, Marvin. Lewis needs to get ready for show and tell.”

“Oh! You’re right, and I should check on Sulu.”

“Let’s go then.” 

Marvin stood on the tips of his toes, hands balled up and resting on his hips. “Welp! Sul- _LEWIS_ and I are going to class! We’ll see you there Harold, and don’t get caught!” The soft-hearted nerd turned on the balls of his feet and skipped off, Lewis turning and following him closely.

“Yeah, don’t get caught, bye Harold.” Lewis said.

“Bye guys,” Harold waved to them, leaning against the wall, watching Melvin and George.

“I’ll be going to class then as well.” Melvin said, glancing between Harold and George. “Have fun hiding in the lockers together, you two.” He smirked, then turned and walked off in the direction of room 4.

“DON’T YOU SNARK US MELVIN!” George scolded.

“ _YEEAAH_ KEEP WALKIN’!!” Harold cried after him.

“ _GET OUTTA HERE YOU VARMINT!_ ” George added.

“STOP YELLING YOU’LL DRAW ATTENTION TO YOURSELVES!” Melvin shouted from two feet away over an ocean of kids. George and Harold ignored Melvin and quickly turned their attention to eachother. Now they were both leaning against the wall.

“You know, I think they just forgot to update the forecasting board.” Harold said.

“Oh, sure, sure.” George nodded his head. “I think they’d appreciate it if somebody changed it up for them.”

“You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?” Harold’s eyes glittered with mischief.

“I can think of five different sentences we can make with the letters on that board _right now._ ”

Within a few minutes, George and Harold found themselves chortling and snorting their way to their usual hiding lockers, away from the forecasting board that now read: “ **I EAT DEAD RATS! - Signed, Ms. Ribble** ”

They sped up their pace, darting for one of the many walls of unoccupied lockers through the mostly desolate hallway. “Gee, I wonder who made the board say _that!?_ ” Harold asked in a dumb mocking tone. George whooped and snorted, looking over his shoulder at Harold as they safely reached their usual lockers (88 and 89) and swung the doors open. 

“Honestly I’m not surprised Ribble lives off’a rats with the knowledge we have on Mr. Krupp’s setup at home.” George said before stepping into good ol’ 88 and shutting the locker door.

“What if we got _locked_ in these one day?” Harold asked, hesitant to step in.

“You can’t get locked in, the thing locks from the outside.” George looked over at the block that would prevent an outsider from opening the locker he sat in, he jiggled it and lifted it all the way, opening the door back up and peeking out at Harold. George waved to his companion from inside. “Hello!” 

Harold turned red - that piece of information was something he should have known because he’d hidden in this locker for roughly two weeks - and opened up 89, stepping in next and settling inside facing where George would be. If there hadn’t been a wall inbetween them. Harold loudy walloped the metal wall with a fist, earning an angry cry from George.

George pressed his lips to the vented part of the wall and obnoxiously breathed into it. “If there wasn’t a wall between us I’d punch you as hard as you hit the wall just now.” Harold smiled evilly and kicked the wall this time, not as hard as the first punch, but just enough to get George to launch himself away to the opposite wall of his locker.

“ _STOP!_ Do you want me to leave because this is how you get me to leave!” George snapped.

“No I’m sorry George!!” Harold whined, while he normally wasn’t bothered if he had upset anyone, George’s feelings somehow reached his nerves. But he still couldn’t help but chuckle at how easily he could startle George.

“Harold?” Called a timid voice from one of the lockers above them, “George? Is that you guys?”

Harold cleared his throat and asked in a higher pitched voice; “Who is it?”

“Tommy? Lockerd-Weller?” 

“TOMMY!” George and Harold cheered.

“What are you doing over here man??” George asked, head aimed upward as if he could see the locker denizen student through the metal walls.

“Oh, you know…” Tommy droned. “Thought I’d spice things up by sitting in a different locker every day. My therapist said it’s not good to be cooped up in the same locker all day. She probably meant I should stop hiding in lockers all together, but-but I can’t do that, you guys know I wouldn’t make it out there.” Harold and George - unknowingly, of course - simultaneously glanced at the vented part of the metal wall that separated writer and artist from eachother before looking back up in the direction they assumed Tommy was in. George shook his head in pity. Tommy, not having waited long enough for a response, accepted their silence as agreeance with his statement. “You know, it’s more exciting when I hide in another kid’s locker on accident. Some of those guys are pretty territorial.”

“We noticed when you stopped comin’ to class, Tommy.” Harold admitted.

“Yeah, we still miss you ya know.” George commented.

Tommy’s soft tin chuckle rang through the lockers as if it would lighten the mood. “Well, maybe I’ll come back out sometime. You guys hear about the new and improved Invention Convention?”

Harold smiled up in Tommy’s direction. “We did! Anybody can enter, are you entering?!”

“As a matter of fact, I already did.” Tommy proudly answered. 

“That’s _great!_ ” George beamed. “Harold and I didn’t know you were into buildin’ stuff!”

“There are lots of things you two don’t know about me.” No doyee. “Oh, you don’t have to be an engineer to get in,” Tommy said, “but I totally made a machine it serves ping pong balls and stuff.”

“Tommy that’s amazing! I wonder who else entered in this week’s Invention Convention?” Harold marveled.

“We could.” George blurted.

“Huh?”

“We could enter, Harold.”

“That’s right! You guys could present one of your comics to everybody!” Tommy proposed.

“Huh,” Harold thought, “we could, couldn’t we?”

“Harold, we gotta finish this origin issue in time, everybody’ll love it!” George said.

“That won’t be a problem for us.” Harold replied.

The warning bell rang overhead. The scuff of kids rushing out of pre-class detention wisped by the lockers Harold, George and Tommy sat in.

“We better go before we’re late.” George whispered. “Harold, I’ll go first and you--” His voice was drowned out by the rabble of passing students laughing at Ms. Ribble’s “new” message, and then the scandalized gasp from their principal, who regularly monitored detained children. The three boys pressed their peepers to the vent of their locker doors to see what was happening. Their principal was among the students who were drawn into the forecasting board like moths to a flame.

“WHO DID THIS!” Mr. Krupp cried out among the kids gathered around the board laughing and taking pictures, he watched the gaggle for a moment, lips pursed in a frown and hands on his hips. His eyes landed on the closest phone and he snatched it from the hands of the student it belonged to, Tim Bronski. “ _PHONES AWAY!_ ” Students who had their phones out quickly shoved them back in their pockets. “Which one of you changed the forecasting board to say-- to say THIS?!” Some peeled away and headed for their respective classes, others stayed, daring to giggle more. 

“Wasn’t me, Principal Krupp.” Tim said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “So I’ll pick that up at the end of the day?”

“Oh nonono!” Mr. Krupp waggled the phone in his hand before slipping it into his shirt pocket. “I’m sure your parents would be _more_ than happy to pick it up _for_ you when they can.” The vicious principle smiled, rocking on the heels of his shoes and patting his shirt pocket. Then he frowned at the remaining students. “Now _all of you_ get your butts in class!” The tiny crowd of kids dispersed.

Tim Bronski lagged behind, he knew his parents would be upset to hear of the event that had just taken place. “Rats…” 

“Okay,” George whispered in Tommy’s direction. “Tommy, I think I’m gonna need you to get out of your locker, can you walk me to class so Harold and I can get out safely?”

“Anything for you, George,” Tommy whispered back.

George sighed in relief. “Thanks, Tommy, you’re an angel.” 

“A _locker angel,_ Tommy!” Harold quietly emphasized.

The conveniently child-sized locker doors swung open, George stepped out and stretched, slamming his locker shut. He looked up at Tommy who stared down at him from the compartment four feet up. Tommy was slow to get out, eyes staying on George’s.

“You okay?” George asked.

“I can feel Mr. Krupp’s eyes on us…” Tommy mumbled, legs poking out into the air and butt sliding forward to the edge of his locker. George’s eyebrows raised. He turned his head back to look at the forecasting board. Like Tommy had suspected; Krupp was still there, staring at the both of them. He was squinting and slowly removing the letters from the forecasting board so it would no longer read: “ **I EAT DEAD RATS! - Signed, Ms. Ribble** ” The tie-clad boy puffed through his nostrils and turned his attention back to Tommy who had finally completely slipped down and landed on the wax tiled floor with a thump.

“You’ll be okay. Just follow my lead.” George assured his peer before turning and walking to his classroom. The mild child followed close behind him. 

“Okay,” Tommy whispered.

Suddenly, George turned his head toward Tommy and asked: “Remember that time Mr. Krupp choked on his toupe?” His voice was obnoxious, above a whisper and way above an inside voice.

“ _George!_ ” Tommy cried out, Mr. Krupp following them was now a given, but he couldn’t help but chuckle at the mental image of their principal inhaling his own hair in opposition to the laws of physics.

“Excuse me?!” Mr. Krupp barked from the other side of the hallway, dropping an R on the floor.

“I KNOW!” George raised his voice even more, he picked up his pace and motioned for Tommy to keep up with him. “I never thought a man could gasp so hard, sucked it right in like a vacuum cleaner.”

Tommy covered his mouth, but the attempt to keep quiet was futile, there was no way his hands could stifle the unstoppable eruption of laughter from rolling out of the boy. “Im-impressive!” Tommy quipped from between his fingers at the sight of a grin on George’s face.

The two boys could hear their principal bounding after them like an angered bulldog. “ _THAT NEVER HAPPENED!!_ ” He roared. Tommy squeaked in fear and sped up his pace to keep up with George who was dashing down the hall to keep a safe distance from their ferocious principal. Krupp soon thundered by lockers 88 and 89. _Whew._ 89 swung open and Harold stepped out, scurrying for his own classroom.

“I don’t know what you were planning on, but I’m pretty sure you got us killed!” Tommy said.

They drew closer to room 4, racing against the sound of Mr. Krupp's shoes clacking hard against the tile floor. “I was goin’ for a diversion but you might be right. Look on the bright side though,”

“What bright side?"

“ _I’m_ probably the only one who’s gonna die. Do you think you could get the Captain Underpants script to Harold?”

They slowed to a stop infront of the door, George latching a hand onto the doorknob. “Hey, we’re okay!” Tommy remarked.

“Yeah, that’s strange. I really thought Mr. Krupp was gonna get us. Or me, I meant me.”

“Yeah…” Tommy sighed.

“Welp, you can go back to your locker now Tommy! Thanks for…" George had turned to look his messy haired friend in the eye, but was more captivated by the lack of Mr. Krupp anywhere behind the boy. "Where did Mr. Krupp even go?!”

Tommy and George whipped around, inspecting any visible inch of the path they had dashed down to reach classroom 4. The man who had been chasing them really vanished, it was like a scene out of a horror movie; _where had the monster gone?!_

“I dunno," Tommy said at last, "I’m really freaked out I’m gonna head back.” He turned and walked back down the hallway he had previously ran for his life with George to hide back in his locker.

“Yeah, love you Tommy be safe!”

“Hypocrite!” 

George chuckled and turned his attention to entering his classroom before the bell rang. The author turned the doorknob and pulled the door open to reveal not the rest of his classroom, but Mr. Krupp obstructing George’s view from the classroom. George jumped nearly out of his shoes, arms flailing in defense. “Mr. Beard!” The principal sang.

“What?! HOW DID YOU GET HERE?!”

“Nevermind that,” Mr. Krupp dismissed, hands joined together, “a word please?” The pleasant tone in his voice rotted away. “ _In my office?_ ”

The final bell rang.

George scowled up at his principal. "Yeah, about that, I'm late for class now.”

"Huh?" Mr. Krupp sounded like someone had woken him up from a nap.

"I'm, I'm late Mr. Krupp, I have a class to go to."

"Oh, sorry," The lumbering principal stepped out of the doorway and into the hall so George could walk in. George shut the door with a soft _click._ "Wait a minute,"

Instead of barging into Ribble’s class, Principal Krupp turned, grumbling his way back to the desecrated forecasting board and finish removing the letters. As he passed a certain wall of lockers, 89 stuck out to him like a sore thumb. Curious, the door hung wide open, wasn’t this one closed when he followed those brats earlier? His brow furrowed, he stood, staring at the locker more. Didn’t George come out of locker 88? That’s right, he slammed the door shut as well… he could feel someone’s eyes on him. Anxiety was radiating out of locker 187, the one above 88 and 89. A child must have been staring at him through the vent of 187’s door. Krupp approached it, a tender expression on his face. “Hello, Tommy. May I speak with you for a moment?”

He heard the shy little cherub gulp and the door of 187 clicked and cracked open. Tommy's mop of brunette hair poked out. “What’s wrong?” He asked.

Mr. Krupp cracked a friendly smile in order the comfort the tiny child. “You’re not in trouble, son. I just would like to ask you a few questions.” The principal popped a hip out to appear more casual. “What were you and George doing over here earlier?”

“Well, George was lonely…” Tommy started, “so I moved over here so we could talk, and then I walked him to class.”

“Mmm, so it was just you and George, huh?”

“That’s right.” The timid child confirmed.

“Then why is locker 89, the one George was right next to, hanging wide open now?”

Mr. Krupp tried not to appear more malicious at the sight of Tommy’s only visible eye bulging in surprise. “... oh, somebody was there?? If someone was with us they were real quiet, didn’t talk at all, we had no idea nobody was there!” Tommy shrunk the gap between the locker door and the hinge as if to shield himself from an incoming attack.

“I have half a mind to believe that those boys are the reason Tara’s message on the forecasting board changed! George and Harold are _very_ responsible boys, you know; whenever something goes wrong, _they’re_ usually responsible.”

“Harold wasn’t here, Principal Krupp, honest!”

Mr. Krupp shook his head, feigning disappointment. “Your parents and I expected so much better from you, Tommy. Why don’t you come out of that locker of yours and I’ll see you at lunch, _IN DETENTION!!_ ” How gratifying it felt to hear the little tormented groan inside locker 187 as if it were haunted by a ghost. Krupp turned and softly chuckled all the way to the forecasting board where he went to plucking the letters he had dropped off of the ground. The man had crouched, after hitting a certain (weight) age, bending over was too strenuous for his body, he growled under his breath. “Somehow those boys are still _together, causing mischief…_ ” 

\---

“You’re _laate..._ ” Melvin taunted as George slipped by and took his seat behind the nerd.

“By like, two seconds!” George retaliated with an eye roll. “Mr. Krupp was standin’ in the doorway, did you see him? How’d he even get there?”

Melvin turned to George briefly to inform him: “There’s another door that connects our classroom to room 3,” the nerd blinked innocently, pulling a smug smirk, “but I guess you wouldn’t know that because you’re never mentally here.”

George’s shoulders slumped as he watched Melvin turn back to face the front of the class. “I see how it is, now that we’re not around your brothers or Harold you’re gonna keep getting me back for comparing you to one of the villains in Captain Underpants.”

“Oh, well, I dunno where you’d get _that_ assumption from. I mean, you guys already made Anti-Humor Boy and he’s a shameless caricature of me so…” Melvin said, a chubby freckled cheek resting smooshed up against his wrist, “but, if you’d still like me to read your kid story I’m still available because while you were gone I finished the warm up already.” Melvin lifted a piece of notebook paper by a corner and swung it out past his shoulder so George couldn’t possibly miss it, George briefly glanced at it to see Melvin’s chicken-scratch handwriting before the nerd dropped it and let it slide back in place on his desk. The aspiring author bit back the urge to ask to copy off the finished work and decided it just wasn’t relevant.

“Kid story? We’re both roughly nine.” George said. “And I really don’t understand, so, you _like_ reading our comics? Or…”

Melvin turned back around to face George. “Oh sure, I got this thing going on where I count every error - spelling and grammatical - and then I divide the total number by pi. Longhand.”

George was visibly confused.

“I don’t use a calculator.” He clarified.

“How is _that_ even possible?? You’re lying!”

“Oh no, it’s very possible. Plus, it’s a great challenge. I noticed you have dyslexia, I too have dyslexia, well, mild dyslexia but I still have to be exceptionally scrutinous while reading or an error might go right over my head.”

“Are you just using big words right now for the sake of using big words? Like, did you even use scrutinous correctly?”

He did.

Melvin ignored George and continued to prattle on. “Plus, there’s alot of spelling errors, I mean _alot_ alot. Last issue there were four-hundred and thirty-two errors if I recall correctly. Spelling and grammatical. Divide that by pi and you get-”

 _That_ was about where George had tuned the human piece of toasted bread out. The young author’s face heated up like a pack of burning coals, he debated whether he still wanted Melvin to read his and Harold’s script now or not and wiped the lower half of his face with a hand. Melvin sure liked to hear himself talk, didn’t he? George tuned back in once he was sure Melvin was done calculating four-hundred and thirty-two divided by pi and went back to talking about George's imperfect writing skills.

“If I could laugh at anything I think it’d be--”

“Wait, so you _really_ can’t laugh at anything at all?!” George was caught off guard, at last he had struck gold! And Melvin hadn’t even read the script yet!

Melvin’s meticulously groomed ginger eyebrows furrowed, his eyes darted to the right before looking George in the eye again. “I… I thought you already knew that.”

“Oh my gosh, you really don’t think anything at all is funny, it all makes sense now!! Thanks, Melvin!”

“Uhh, no problem?” Melvin’s cheeks bloomed the shade of red you turn when you sense you’ve been exploited somehow. “So, the script?”

“Hm?”

“The script, you wanted me to read it?”

George leaned back in his chair with a self-satisfied grin, folding his hands over his desk. “Oh, no, I’m good now.”

Melvin was really feeling exploited now. The nerd flashed an offended scowl. “ _George!_ ”

“Okay _fine._ ” George turned in his seat to unzip his backpack and retrieve the scripted draft of Captain Underpants the Origin Issue. “If you insist.” 

Melvin reached an expectant freckled hand to receive the spiral notebook from the little author sitting behind him. “Oh, I just had an idea, what if I helped you edit the script so you’d have less errors in the final product?! I could get my pen out and mark--”

“Gimmie the script back.”

“ _No!_ ” The nerd hugged the script to his chest and turned away. George stood in his seat and reached his arms out as if he could snag the notebook back with supernatural gravity-defying powers.

“Melvin _gimmie the dang script back!!_ ” The angered author pressed his stomach hard into the desk for support as he pushed on the seat with the soles of his shoes. He _almost_ got a handful of Melvin’s hand-me-down sweater, but the stubborn nerd hunched over just in time to get farther away from George without leaving his desk.

“Unh-uh!” Melvin squeaked. 

George’s tiny feet pushed a little more on his seat to have a better chance at grabbing any part of Melvin, his arms strained to do so,“You armadillo-- _ARGH!_ ” and the chair screeched backwards into the desk of Priianka Powers who sat behind him, leaving his feet suspended in the air and his stomach muscles feeling sore. Just as George’s seat launched into the behind desk, there was a loud metallic crashing sound, poor Priianka jumped out of her own seat like a frightened cat, the surrounding students - excluding Melvin of course - burst into laughter, and Ms. Ribble couldn’t have returned from her quick run to the bathroom at a worse time. The room became dead silent, save for Priianka reseating herself.

“WHAT IS GOING ON IN HERE!?” Ms. Ribble exclaimed with the grace of a running garbage disposal.

“GEORGE’S TRYING TO TAKE THIS SCRIPT AWAY FROM ME BEFORE I CAN EVEN READ IT!” Melvin whined.

George battled his stomach muscles, desperately trying to expand himself somehow as if he had a chance of ever getting his and Harold's script back. “ _Melvin no!!_ ” The author rasped.

Ms. Ribble took in the sight of Melvin trying to recede into his desk like a snail to its shell as George feverishly reached for the nerd. “I’ll take care of that _for_ him then!” She scoffed, yanking the notebook out of Melvin’s arms. “This is just a notebook.” Ms. Ribble groveled upon further inspection of the thing in her hand.

“No! That’s the script for Captain Underpants the Origin Issue _please_ give it back Ms. Ribble!!” George pleaded.

“What did I tell you about making comics in class, George?! And _sit down_ like a normal student!” Nagged Ms. Ribble. She trudged over to her desk and tossed the notebook onto the surface where it skidded and kissed the keyboard of her desktop computer.

George let out a weighty sigh and slipped off of his desk to his feet. “Jeez,” George cursed under his breath, not acknowledging Priianka’s sympathetic stare, grabbing his chair and sliding it back to his desk. “What was I thinking?” George plopped down in his seat, not noticing Melvin leaning backward in his direction.

“Sorry, George,” Melvin croaked.

“ _Sorry?_ Now how are Harold and I supposed to finish the Origin Issue?! There’s no way we’re getting that back from her now! She’s probably gonna shred that whole thing in the teacher’s lounge or something!” George softly sucked in air through his nostrils and covered his eyes. “Why do you always have to blurt everything to the teachers like that?!” George whispered.

Melvin was sharp to hiss back. “Well maybe if _you_ weren’t so hasty to have the thing retur--”

**POP!**

The sound sliced through the classroom like a universal hiccup. George flailed in his seat with the rest of the students who flinched, hitting his desk and looking to the front of the room where Ribble stood with a party popper. George carefully cupped his ringing ears.

“I have an exciting announcement to make, class.” Ms. Ribble droned as if she were reading from a teleprompter, swiping the small pile of mini-streamers and confetti under her desk with a foot. The entire room cringed in anticipation of more unnecessary celebration of Harold and George’s historical separation. “I’m retiring.” Everyone’s eyes widened, especially George’s, kids looked around at eachother in disbelief, others cheered. Well, all of them cheered and, respectively, a polite _“Congratulations, Ms. Ribble!”_ came from Melvin's desk. Ms. Ribble almost couldn’t speak over the shrill cries of her students. “Alright, settle down!”

“Hooray!” The kids exclaimed.

“ _SHUT YOUR PIE HOLES!_ ” She screamed with whatever voice she could muster. Ms. Ribble used to be able to scream above any intensity of children chatter for some peace and quiet, unfortunately, years of the practice had the equivalent effect on her voice as smoking three packs of cigarettes every day. But hey, the kids heard her, and they quieted down, so she still had it. “I’m retiring at the end of the year!” Ms. Ribble specified.

“Aw maaan,” Said the kids.

“But, the staff is throwing a retirement party for me today.”

The students hollered one single “Hooray!” so Ms. Ribble could continue to speak shortly after.

“During recess.” Ms. Ribble clarified.

“Aww, man…” Grumbled the kids.

“Now, before we get on with our warm ups, it’s time for something fun.” 

“Hooraay?” The kids cheered hesitantly.

“You’ll all get to make a ‘Happy Retirement’ card for me.” 

“ _Hooraaaayyy…_ ” The kids groaned.


	3. Chapter 2 (Part 2)

**Roughly twenty minutes earlier…**

 

Before entering room 13, Harold, panting like a maniac, grabbed the doorknob to the classroom with one hand and touched the other to the body of the door like a safe spot during a game of tag. The bell hadn’t rung yet, so Harold could continue to lean all his weight on the door and catch his breath. That was a higher priority to the dolphin loving boy than not appearing winded and disheveled infront of classmates who just wanted to go in. 

“Are you okay?” Cyndi Launson, a girl that Harold recalled sitting behind Lewis, asked.

“Yep,” Harold answered, trying to even out his breaths, “after you.” He said and stepped away from the door for Cyndi, tossing his head back and placing his hands on his hips. She gave him a funny look before walking in.

“You look like Mr. Meaner made you run fifty laps around the school!” Another student remarked, not stopping once on his way into room 13. As Harold finally walked in, he saw that Cyndi was already seating herself behind Lewis’ empty desk. And when Harold looked to the front of the class, he saw Ms. Hurd sitting in Mr. Rected’s desk and Lewis at center-stage, standing behind a pink plastic rolling cart where his taxidermy night-feathered friends perched. It appeared that Lewis was already done however, because he was reaching to pluck them off of the cart.

“To the students joining us right now,” Ms. Hurd started in a low buttery tone, “we started show and tell early so we’d have time for an extra activity we have to get done for an event coming up during recess.”

“ _You missed Lewis’ lesson on ravens and crows!!!_ ” Lewis cried out in Harold’s direction.

Harold’s fellow students turned to watch him raise his hands in defense. “I got here as fast as I could,” He said. As suddenly as they looked, they all turned back to face the front of the class. 

“Who wants to go up next?” Ms. Hurd called as Harold and Lewis headed for their desks. Hands shot up across the classroom, and one of them was Marvin’s hand which waved and bobbed with excitement. It caught Harold’s eye on his journey to his seat. “Harold? Would you like to show us what you got?” 

The artist stopped, hands already on his desk. “Oh, already?” Harold took his hands off of his desk and turned to stand before his class, clearing his throat, “Okay.” Everyone watched him silently make his way to the front of the room, stopping beside the plastic rolling cart. He folded his hands together in preparation. Finally, Harold spoke. “I can do this.” he shook himself like a wet dog and all the pens and pencils he had stored away in his tangled blond hair freed themselves like tiny missiles, clacking on the floor a few inches away. The whole classroom roared with laughter. Harold could hear Ms. Hurd trying to shush the class.

“Quiet down, now!” Ms. Hurd ordered. The bell rang as Harold looked over to his substitute teacher; he thought he could hear her laughing too! “You better clean those up!” While she spoke with authority, her eyes twinkled the way her earrings did and she tried to contain an amused smile. Harold stood in place.

“Huh?”

She smiled at full force now. “You don’t wanna lose those, do you?” Harold’s substitute teacher chuckled. 

Harold, confused and rattled from Ms. Hurd not yelling at him for making a mess, went to picking up all the pencils and pens he could find. “ _Is this what whiplash feels like?_ ” Harold muttered under his breath, trying to figure out why and how Ms. Hurd, _an adult working at Jerome Horwitz Elementary School,_ was amused at the sight of _Harold Hutchins_ unleashing a barrage of writing utensils out of his hair in class.

“I’ll go next!” Marvin cried, hand bobbing in the air, “I’ll go next!!”

Ms. Hurd took notice to Marvin’s eagerness, she smirked and asked: “Who’s up next?”

“ _Me-me-me!!_ ” Marvin called over the silence of the classroom, waving his arm and perking up in his seat. “Pick me, ma’am!!”

“Come on up, then.” Ms. Hurd waved for the excited dork to stand beside the pink rolling cart. Marvin stood and rushed to stand next to it, his magenta sweater nearly matching the cart beside him.

“Why’s she so nice?!” Harold whispered loud enough for Lewis to hear over the empty desk between them.

Lewis leaned closer to Marvin’s vacant desk to whisper: “Lewis heard she applied to be the new science teacher but Mr. Krupp refused to give her the job.” 

“How do you know that??”

“Lewis asked her. That’s how he heard.” Lewis snidely explained. 

“Wow, you're _so_ friendly.” Lewis snickered at Harold's remark.

“Alright,” Marvin began, “I have a little friend who’d like to meet you all!” The freckled boy reached down to lift his shirt and out popped the head of a brown hamster, nestled safely in a pocket on Marvin's shorts. Kids gasped, some in the back of the room stood in their seats to see what those more privileged could. Marvin’s already wide smile grew wider as he reached down and gently pulled the tiny hamster from his pocket and set him down on the plastic rolling cart. “This is my hamster, Sulu!” Marvin motioned excitedly to the hamster. Sulu wandered around the pink surface he had been placed on, nose pointed down and sniffing curiously.

“He’s so cute!” Cyndi Launson cried out.

“Can we pet him!?” Another classmate, Steve Loopner, asked from the back of the class.

“Sure!” Marvin said. The entire class got out of their seats, chairs screeching loudly and causing Sulu to leap into the air. “NEVERMIND!” Marvin cried out, standing protectively infront of the cart. “SIT BACK DOWN!”

“Aww maaan,” Moaned the class. Everyone sat back down like Marvin ordered.

Marvin relaxed, returning back to the left side of the cart. “After class, and one at a time,” he turned his attention to Sulu and adoringly stroked the hamster’s head with a finger, “lesson one, rodents like Sulu are very sensitive to sound, so please be considerate of his tiny eardrums,” At some point, Harold had let his chin rest on one of his palms. "Anyway, I know what you all might be thinking of him,”

“He’s so cute!” Cyndi cried out once more.

“Wait, no I meant like--”

“I wanna give him kisses!!” Steve added.

“Me too, buddy,” Marvin leaned against the rolling cart, feeling it partially roll away from the force of his weight, he pulled it closer to himself, “but also, you’re all thinking he’s just a normal hamster, right?”

“Well what else would he be?” A third student, Oliver Voyle, asked.

“Can he turn into a dolphin?!” Harold crackled excitedly.

“I’m so glad you asked, Harold!” Marvin said, triggering Harold’s eyes to grow in size and twinkle with excitement. “And the answer is _no!_ In fact, he cannot turn into a dolphin,” the dork laughed at the sight of Harold’s disappointed face. Marvin adjusted his square-framed glasses. “Sulu is actually a creature we made with one of the machines my brothers and I are going to present at this week’s Invention Convention! And one of the reasons why he is so special is that we engineered him to be a bionic hybrid.”

“Wow, that’s very impressive, Marvin and Lewis!” Ms. Hurd commended. 

“Thank you! And now, Sulu’s gonna show you just what he can do,” Marvin’s hands folded behind his back in a dignified manner, “Sulu,” the bespectacled boy began, eyes confidently closed, “do a super-bionic jump across the classroom!” The children, and the substitute teacher, watched in anticipation as Sulu did absolutely nothing. The hamster simply looked up at Marvin and sniffed, tiny nose and little whiskers quivering. Marvin’s eyes opened, confused at the lack of amazed class noises and looked over to see Sulu staring at him. “Um,” Marvin nervously cleared his throat, “Sulu, super-bionic jump, like we practiced?”

“Try asking him nicely!” Harold suggested.

“Oh! Good idea.” Marvin’s face turned a richer pink than his sweater for a split second and crouched to be at eye level with his hamster. Sulu approached his face, whiskers tickling the boy’s nose. “Sulu, would you please be so kind as to demonstrate your groundbreaking powers and do a super-bionic jump across the room?” Sulu squeaked in Marvin’s face.

“BOOOOORIIIIIING!” Steve Loopner cried out.

“ _Oliver!_ ” Ms. Hurd chided.

“I’m _Steve!_ ”

Marvin snapped, turning away from Sulu and sobbing in distress. “This is all my fault! I'm a terrible father what have I done?!”

The rest of the class overflowed with chatter as if Marvin's sobs were the O.K. they were waiting for. “What the fr- … heck is goin on!?” Harold asked. 

Lewis turned in his seat to face Harold. “Marvin forgot the ziplock of hamster food we packed for Sulu’s visit here.” He explained.

Harold covered his mouth. “Oh,” 

“You must be so hungry and upset! POOR SULU!!” Marvin wailed. Lewis covered his face.

“Marvin is going to be _so_ embarrassed about crying later…” Lewis grumbled.

While Lewis was busy trying to stop being related to Marvin through sheer willpower, and Ms. Hurd was trying to comfort the self-deprecating Marvin, and the other students talked amongst eachother about how much of a liar Marvin was, Harold left his seat and quietly approached the plastic rolling cart where Sulu scurried. When Harold reached the rolling cart, he smiled down at the little hamster who had stopped sniffing around once again to scope him out.

“Hi, Sulu,” Harold said, “I’m Harold, nice to meet you.” The artist stuck his pointer finger out to Sulu as if Sulu would shake it. The hamster did, but in a different way; he scurried closer and sniffed. “I think I have something you might like, if you’re hungry.” Harold then reached into his back pocket, pulling out an unopened - and squished - rice krispie treat. Sulu was interested. The obnoxious crinkling of the wrapper being torn stifled Marvin’s crying and got most of the class’ attention. After Harold had the squashed treat unwrapped, he broke off a teensy piece and set it down infront of the hungered hamster. Sulu sniffed it, enticed by the sugary scent, he went right to happily chewing on it.

“Oh, Harold!” Marvin exclaimed.

Harold jumped, the dork seemingly materialized behind him. “What? Can hamsters not eat that stuff??!” Marvin was smiling, eyes emanating relief.

“He’ll be just fine now; you fed him!! Thank you!” 

“Oh, yeah!” Harold’s voice cracked as Marvin pulled him in for a hug. “No-- uhh, no problem.” Marvin let go, still smiling wide. “Yeah,” Harold backtracked, “you can keep this,” the little artist held out his rice krispie treat to Marvin.

Marvin took the temporary hamster food source. “Sulu thanks you as well.”

Ms. Hurd sat up in Mr. Rected’s seat, the swivel chair creaked tiredly at the motion. “Alright you two, sit on down so we can get through the last few students.” She said. Marvin closed the wrapper around the rice krispie treat and pocketed it, scooping up Sulu and walking back to his desk. Harold followed. “I hope you’re containing Sulu in something for his trip here.”

“Not really, just my pocket.” Marvin said, sitting in his seat and letting Sulu roam freely on his desk.

“Sulu is stronger and smarter than the average hamster, Ms. Hurd, he’ll be okay.” Lewis assured his substitute teacher, reaching over and affectionately nudging Sulu’s side with a finger.

“Oh, it’s not him I’m worried about…” Ms. Hurd nervously trailed off. “Anyway, who’s next?” Nobody raised their hands. Ms. Hurd stared out into the sea of children. “Alright, come on, I know not all of you have gone yet. I guess I have to consult my list.” 

It was the ten minute mark, the screech of the intercom coming to life signified this, and also caused Ms. Hurd to jolt and toss the clipboard with the list of students over Mr. Rected’s desk. An amused chuckle rolled through the class like a slow rippling breeze before they were cut off by Mr. Krupp’s voice. “Good morning, Jerome Horwitz,” the principal’s voice cooed from the old speaker like a lax radio show host, “today marks our eleventh day from the separation of George Beard and Harold Hutchins,” the entire class cringed at the fact this topic was even still relevant, “and speaking of mischief, did I say mischief? No, I said George and Harold didn’t I? George and Harold, mischief, what’s the difference?” Mr. Krupp chuckled at his own joke. “Anyway, this morning, the forecasting board - you all know the one - was changed by _someone_ to say: ‘I eat dead rats, signed, Ms. Ribble…’” The principal growled, silence ensued over the intercom, however it wasn’t turned off. Surely Mr. Krupp could hear his entire school laughing.

“Uh-oh,” Harold muttered over the sound of his classroom roaring with laughter, his legs twisted uncomfortably. Marvin caught sight of this.

“That was you two! What were you thinking?!” Marvin inquired, covering Sulu’s ears.

“George and I- well, the board was like that for days! We had to change it!” Harold quietly explained.

“No you didn’t!” Lewis hissed over Marvin’s desk. “No you didn’t, no you didn’t!”

“No, Harold, you two have to lay low! Who knows how much more severe Mr. Krupp’s punishments on you and George could get!” Marvin whispered. Harold gulped, feeling his stomach churning.

“To, to be fair,” Harold started, “I don’t think it could get any worse than this.”

“Even so, there’s only so much Lewis and Melvin and I can do for you, we can’t protect you from Principal Krupp if you keep at your old antics,” Marvin added.

“Could you imagine if Melvin knew for sure it was you two?” Lewis asked.

Marvin’s eyes bulged. “He’d blab!”

Harold’s stomach and chest were on fire. “Okay! Stop! We won’t change signs at school anymore I promise! … _Blab?_ ” 

The laughter died down, the three boys stopped talking.

Mr. Krupp awkwardly cleared his throat, the rest of the school must have calmed down as well. “Anyway,” the principal started, “if any of you know who made those changes, please tell a teacher, and, to whoever changed that sign, _your actions have consequences…_ ” Mr. Krupp’s voice broiled like a flame. Oh, he knew it was George’s and Harold’s fault, but he needed proof, which he didn’t have enough of, or a confession to raise the intensity of the boys’ punishment. Even if he didn’t get what he wanted now, he knew he intimidated them… “On another note, we’re closing in on our next annual Invention Convention this Saturday. Now I’m sure most of you have heard that it won’t be just a display of the Sneedly Brother’s natural talent this time around, and that, any of you could enter in your own creations, only one, of course. That was my lovely-- Uh, _our_ lovely, uhhh, our lunch lady’s suggestion.” Mr. Krupp giggled sheepishly. “Isn’t that cute? I mean-- ah-- I mean uhhh-- GREAT? _GREAT._ Great opportunity for you kids.”

Harold buckled over, stifling laughter, _Krupp and Edith sitting in a tree..._

“Ew,” Lewis stuck out his tongue.

“Well that explains that,” Marvin said to himself.

“ _-AND ONE MORE THING!_ ” Mr. Krupp shouted into his microphone, causing listeners to wince. “Spirit Week starts this Tuesday, more details will be displayed in due time!” Finally, the audio cut out.

“Mr. Krupp sure likes to hear himself talk, doesn’t he?” Harold asked obnoxiously. George would be proud.

“Harold, I’m warning you,” Ms. Hurd said sternly, though she just couldn’t wipe that smirk off her face. Harold stared at her in wordless horror, why wasn’t she sending him out of class?!

Before anything else could be said, the intercom screeched back to life. “I forgot to mention one more thing!” Mr. Krupp said. “One of our staff members, Tara, you all know her as Ms. Ribble, is retiring at the end of the year and we’re putting together a little party for her. It’s today. During recess.”

“That’s so sweet of them!” Marvin said.

“ _Recess_ though?” Harold whined.

“Well, I’m sure it’s not mandatory in-”

“ _IT’S MANDATORY!!_ ” Mr. Krupp shouted into his microphone once more. 

“There it is.” Harold grumbled.

\---

“Have a seat,” Drawled the school secretary, Ms. Anthrope, without peeling her eyes away from her computer, “yer principal’s makin’ a phone call.” Harold silently acknowledged her statement, and took a seat right next to George. You’re probably wondering what happened to lead up to this, well, just like when watching a movie; be quiet and you’ll get the answer, bub!

George looked up from his swinging feet, gasping in surprise, “Harold?!” 

“Hey George, what’re you in for?”

“Wha, … I was… How’d you know I was here?”

“I didn’t.”

“Well, what are you doing here?”

“I launched some pens out of my hair and insulted Mr. Krupp infront of Ms. Hurd and she laughed and smiled both times. _Both times,_ George!” Harold grasped George’s shoulders and shook them. George was shook, and confused. 

“What are you talking about?!”

“I did the only thing a reasonable person would do!!” Harold cried out, George freed himself from his friend’s grip.

“.... Enjoy the opportunity to unapologetically be yourself in class?”

“I did the only thing an adult in Jerome Horwitz would normally make me do!!” Harold corrected himself. George wheezed.

“Harold go back to class.”

Harold defiantly shook his head. “What did you get sent here for?”

“Oh, we were makin’ cards for Ms. Ribble and I told her not all butterflies are yellow when she said they were.”

“Yeesh, she’s crazy, couldn’t they retire her any faster?”

George snickered, covering his mouth with his hands. “I know, right?!”

Harold and George weren’t paying attention, but Ms. Anthrope had started scowling at them.

“I mean like, she could’a just said that she likes yellow butterflies.” The author continued.

Ms. Anthrope’s eyes bulged behind her glasses. That was a good assumption, that Tara liked yellow butterflies. She looked to the novelty item on her desk, a porcelain sculpture of a yellow butterfly containing a clock, an old knick-knack it was. But it was crafted with care and looked lovely. Yeah, this’d be nicer than a box of chocolates - a box of chocolates wouldn’t even be useful after you ate them all anyway, a clock was a more thoughtful gift to give someone. What a lucky coincidence that she had it! Ms. Anthrope swiped the clock up into her arms, clicking something with a hasty finger and the copying machine - which also doubled as a printer, of course - came to life and began printing off papers.

“Hey, you two!” Ms. Anthrope called for George and Harold’s attention. “I need you to hang up and hand out these papers I got printin’! Got that?”

Harold and George noticed the clock in the secretary’s arms.

“Is that butterfly for Ms. Ribble, Ms. Anthrope?” George asked.

Ms. Anthrope scoffed. “That’s none-o-your business, Mr. Beard.”

“Umm,” Harold started, watching Ms. Anthrope walk farther from her desk, his eyes darted around, trying to jumpstart himself into following through with an idea that flashed in his brain, “uh, Ms. Anthrope wait a second! I need you to sign this uh- this card my class and I are doing, we’re putting one card together as a group to give to Ms. Ribble and we wanted you to sign it too!” Harold pulled a piece of paper from the stack he had brought with him in case he needed to pass the time and rushed to the secretary’s desk, slapping it down onto the surface.

“Oh, sure, kid.” Ms. Anthrope said. When she was by Harold’s side, she tenderly set the clock down and looked down at the blank piece of paper Harold placed infront of them. “Why’s it blank, Hutchins?”

Harold gulped quietly. “We wanted you to sign it first.” He lied.

“Well, alright.” Ms. Anthrope snatched the pen that sat behind her keyboard and scribbled _'Love, Edith Anthrope'_ in the bottom right corner. Harold was delighted to see that the secretary had dotted the I in her name with a heart as well. 

“Thanks, Ms. Anthrope.” Harold said, concealing a smile.

“Yeah, yeah, I don’t got alotta time.” Ms. Anthrope scooped her clock back up and marched out of her office. As soon as she was gone, Harold jumped up and down, laughing excitedly. He folded the piece of paper into a card shape and dashed to George who had meanwhile wandered beside the copying machine to inspect what kind of papers they would be handing out to the rest of the school.

“George-- LOOK! She dotted her name with a heart this is _too_ good-- Uhh,” Harold stopped, letting both of his hands drop to his sides. He watched George read a copy of the papers being printed, curiously tilting his head as if the action alone would allow him to see past George’s back. “George?”

“Harold, you’re not gonna like this,”

“Oh no, what is it?” Harold was handed a memo for the impending Spirit Week. “Oh, I was worried it was-- _HEAUGH!_ ” Harold read on in horror.

“And why would they make it start on a Tuesday?! That’s not even the whole week!” George complained.

“This isn’t even _spirity!_ ” Harold remarked. “Hah! Look at this first one though!”

“I know, _‘Thank Your Lunch Lady Day.’_ ” George and Harold chuckled.

“I think we know who scheduled this one, George.”

“Krupp is so sweet to her.”

“Yeah, otherwise we’d have to kill him.”

“What?”

Harold cleared his throat and continued to read the other days in succession. “ _Obedience_ day? WEAR A HAT TO SCHOOL DAY? Oh, no, wait, that one’s actually okay.” 

George jumped at the sound of Harold screeching in fear. “What?!”

“ _MR. KRUPP DAY!!!_ "

“Uh, YEAH!” George turned and shut off the copying machine. “We gotta do somethin’ about this, Harold!” The printing process stopped.

“You’re right, George.”

George snatched all the fresh copies of the Spirit Week memo out of their birthplace and dropped them right into the trash. Harold joined George’s side infront of the can with the last one, tearing it in half and dropping the pieces in with their unharmed siblings. George smiled at their work, hands on his hips. “Okay, the week is fifty percent saved now.”

“Fifty percent?”

“Yeah! We can’t just throw away the memos and walk out, we’ll get in trouble! Krupp could come back any second, we gotta make a new memo and print out all those copies and get outta here fast so we can hand ‘em all out.” George explained, rushing to Ms. Anthrope’s desk.

“No wait!” Harold cried out, grabbing George by the arm and stopping him. “George, you remember the announcement from earlier; Krupp is onto us! Maybe we should just hand out the old memos and endure Spirit Week to avoid any more trouble.”

“Harold,” George started, “no matter what we choose to do, we’re in trouble. And look how we’ve got along so far! We gotta do the right thing.”

“Okay, but what if Mr. Krupp catches us?”

“He won’t.” George said, finishing his trip to Ms. Anthrope’s desk and climbing into her chair. “We need to do this. He won’t catch us.”

“I hope you’re right…” Harold nervously scratched his palms.

“Of course I’m right!” George was still so small that he only occupied half of Ms. Anthrope’s reclining swivel chair. “God wouldn’t give us this opportunity to save everybody a whole week of suffering just to sabotage us!” He patted the space beside him. “Come help me make this Spirit Week the spiritiest of all, Mr. Hutchins.” Harold sighed, smiling at George and climbing next to his friend in the secretary’s seat.

“Alright. Thanks, God. But, our lunch lady did make it possible for us to enter into this week’s Invention Convention,” Harold said, “so, should we leave ‘Thank Your Lunch Lady Day’ in?” George thought for a moment, pinching his bottom lip between a thumb and forefinger.

“Mmm, I got a better idea on how we could thank her. How ‘bout we give her a day off?” George’s finger mashed the delete button on the keyboard in order to replace _'Thank Your Lunch Lady Day'_ with _'Schools Out Day! Espeshially For The Lunch Lady'_

George’s and Harold’s cheeks puffed with repressed giddy laughter.

\---

After the boys handed out every printed copy of the New and Improved Spirit Week memo except for one, George and Harold headed for the cafeteria. It was important to them that the very last one was delivered to their lunch lady so she would undoubtedly know that she was now unrequired to come in for her job tomorrow. Plus, it was almost lunch time.

“Oh! I just remembered,” George piped up as they approached the entrance to the kitchen, “why’d you get our secretary to sign that piece of paper?”

Harold only smugly smiled over at George. “You’ll see.” He said.

“Alright,” George rolled his eyes. The kitchen door was closed, George drew up closer and knocked. “Hey Miss-- uh, hey, Harold, what’s her name?”

“It’s Edith.” Harold said.

“Yeah, but, what’s her last name?”

“It’ll be Krupp in a few months if we’re lucky.”

“No I mean like does this woman even have a--” George was cut off by the sound of the kitchen door opening.

“Well, if it isn’t the famous George and Harold, what brings you two little dumplin’s to my lair?” Edith greeted.

“Hi, Miss Edith!” George said.

“Yeah, hi,” Harold made himself noticed though he stood half behind his friend.

“Wait a minute,” Edith caught herself, “aren’t you two banned from bein’ around eachother during school hours?” George and Harold stared at her, petrified. “Now, if y’all ask me, I’d say that’sa load of hogwash. Strict old Benjamin havin’ you two moved to separate classes was enough.” She waved a gloved hand, whisking the boys’ fear away. “But I’m just the lunch lady, huh? Don’t worry though, I won’t tell him I saw you two. As long as y'all'ren’t planning any tricks,”

“N-no tricks!” George reached out the orange slip of paper for her to take in her latex-gloved hand. “We were tasked with handing out the Spirit Week memo and we thought we would give you one so you could prepare for the week long party.”

“Well, thank you chipmunks!” The lunch lady said, taking the paper from George’s hand. “Your principal told me he planned this one himself ‘n I was--” Edith stopped in her tracks as she read the page. She suspiciously glanced at George and Harold with her only visible violet eye. “Not very good at spellin’ things, is he?” Edith laughed like the crackle of static electricity. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say _you two_ made this paper.”

“N-nope!” Harold lied.

“Of course not, Mr. Krupp told us he spelled stuff wrong on purpose to connect with the kids when he asked us to hand these all out.” George added. “Plus, we have no idea how to get on any of the computers here. At all.”

“Well isn’t that sweet of him? Your principal is such a good man.” Edith said, scratching her jet black hair. “I know he’s doin’ his best for all of you.” George and Harold were assaulted with the memory of reading _'Mr. Krupp Day'_ in the original memo. “Welp! S’almost feedin’ time.” She patted the door, “I gotta get back in there, bye you two!” Then she turned and walked back into the kitchen, closing the door behind herself.

“Does she know it’s not sanitary to touch parts of her body with her gloves on? Or, really anything that’s not food?” Harold asked from a cafeteria table far behind George. 

“Maybe she washes ‘em.” George suggested, though not really believing Miss Edith ever washed her gloves, and he joined Harold at the table to see what he was doing. It looked like Harold was finishing up that phony card he asked Ms. Anthrope to sign, and he thought he saw the shape of a heart, but the artist had flopped over to hide it. “What’s the card supposed to be?!”

“You’ll see!” Harold said. “But not now, turn around or something ‘till I’m done.”

“Fine, fine.” George turned and walked a few feet away from Harold. He grew more impatient at the sound of his friend snickering, beginning to tap his foot on the floor. George’s brow knitted together, crossing his arms and turning his head half heartedly in Harold’s direction. “I really wanna know what it is, Harold!”

“You’ll see,” Harold said once again.

“ _HAROL!_ ” George turned to face Harold completely. “YOU GOTTA TELL ME _NOW!_ ”

“I can tell you what it’s not,” Harold offered.

“UHN-UH, I AIN’T PLAYIN’ AROUND HAROL.” The author held his arms out at his sides with his fingers spread like a cat trying to appear larger and more intimidating than its opponent.

“GEORGE NO DON’T LOOK AT THE CARD!” Harold shrieked.

George advanced on his friend, arms held out on his sides, speaking through clenched teeth. “ _I AIN’T PLAYIN’ AROUND._ ”

Harold cackled and climbed ontop of the lunch table, holding the card above his head to reveal that it was safe inside an envelope that he snagged from Ms. Anthrope’s office. George’s hands fell, giving up his faux intimidation tactics. Harold stuck his tongue out at the boy. “I can tell you what it contains!” Harold said.

“What, Harold, what does it contain?” George asked, dropping to his knees.

“Ms. Anthrope’s name.”

George flopped completely to the floor, growling in disappointment. “ _You salty sea sponge..._ ” George and Harold’s moment together was abruptly interrupted by the brassy trill of the lunch bell.

“Oh hey!” Harold said, climbing down from the lunch table and onto the bench.

George looked up. “What?” 

“I think I sorta know what kinda machine the Sneedlys are gonna show us.” Harold said.

“Tell me!” George said, standing and launching himself to sit beside Harold.

“Well, Marvin said that he and his brothers made a bionic hamster with it.”

“Get outta town.”

“No really! They named him Sulu and he’s really cute, I got to feed him. Aw, you’re probably gonna get to meet him soon!”

“Harold what’s with you and Marvin?” George raised a skeptical brow at Harold who lit up like a stoplight. “It’s probably just some trick anyway, how old are they, like, nine? There’s no way they could make a robot-hamster hybrid!”

“Well, either way,” students started to swarm into the cafeteria, threatening to drown out the two tricksters’ voices. “Sulu’s awesome.”

George patted his thighs and rocked onto his feet. “Welp, I’m off.”

“No, where are you going!” Harold whined watching George stand. The author turned to his artist, slowly trailing backwards.

“I’m gonna be in locker 88 again, send one of your boys after me when you meet up with them so we don’t get in trouble with Krupp for bein’ together, okay?”

“Oh, right, I forgot,” Harold thought aloud, letting George know he could march off for the door, “dang, I thought we’d have time to finish the origin issue before the Sneedlys got here.” George froze in place at that very statement, arms trapped in an exaggerated walking motion and right leg curling in as if to give up on its journey back to earth. 

“Uh-oh,” 

“Is something wrong, George?”

“Nope! Everything’s fine!!” George assured his friend, thawing out and rushing to leave the cafeteria.

“Hmm,” Harold watched his friend speed away.

It would be ideal if George could correct his mistake and get that script back on his own without letting Harold know he’d lost it to Ms. Ribble in the first place, and, as George entered his classroom, he found it empty. That was good, he’d prefer to snag the script back himself than ask to have it returned. He walked to Ms. Ribble’s desk, expecting to see the notebook laying where his teacher had tossed it, but it was gone. George frowned and proceeded to go through all of Ms. Ribble’s drawers to find paper clips, pens, calculators, confiscated pencils that glittered and erasers that smelled like bubble gum and chocolate, torn papers with drawings on them that dated back to before Harold’s and George’s separation, hair clips and headbands and hats deemed too distracting, origami frogs, somebody’s tamagotchi, there was even a moldy sandwich in a ziplock! But no script; all that hard work on the origin story for their beloved waistband warrior was lost once again. George pocketed a few of those glittery pencils and an eraser that smelled like chocolate before turning back with a heavy heart and trudging out of the desolate classroom.

As George walked down the hallway for locker 88, he passed the old school janitor who went about his business in an aged yellow jumpsuit, and he was collecting trash. _Trash!_ George rushed back before the janitor could reach room 4 and dove for the trash can, dumping the contents out onto the ground. “Dangit!” George cursed. “It’s all just trash.”

Ribble obviously left with it, the boy thought as he contemplatively touched his chin, but now it could be anywhere. George turned away from the mess to be met with the sight of the school janitor stepping into the doorway. “Hey!” He exclaimed. 

“Sorry Mr. Reeted, I was lookin’ for something.” 

Mr. Reeted placed his spotty-discolored hands on his hips. “C’mon kid, can you put that all back in the can for me so I don’t have to bend over so far? What’re you even looking for?”

“My teacher took a notebook from me and I can’t find it in here,” George explained, scooping crumpled and shredded papers off the ground and dumping them back into the trash can for the old janitor, “it wouldn’t have been unlikely that she threw it away.”

“What’s the cover look like?”

“It’s red with a bunch of sketches Harold did on it,” said the little author as he delivered the refilled trash can to Mr. Reeted. The janitor’s big calloused hand clamped onto an edge and emptied it into the industrial sized rolling trash can he was dragging along. Then he scratched at the thick silver-white chevron that sat on his upper lip.

“I’ll keep an eye out for it.” Mr. Reeted said, handing the can back to George.

George’s eyes lit up. “Thanks!” The boy turned to put the trash can back in its old place and spun back around to face the janitor, “Hey, Mr. Reeted I’m--” or, where the janitor was, “George by the way…” George said to an empty doorway. “Oh well,” he said, finally exiting room 4 and making his journey to locker 88. “Harold’s gonna kill me when I tell him…” George muttered to himself. This was his fault, he thought as he entered locker 88 and sunk deep into it. Harold had warned against bringing the script to school earlier this morning, the personified piece of yellow lint hadn’t foreseen this outcome of course, but Harold was still right, and he would probably be disappointed to learn this work of theirs met a similar fate as the first. He sunk deeper into the locker and burrowed his face into his hands. “If I just didn’t want Melvin to-- _Melvin!_ ” George glared up from his hands at the wall infront of him. Maybe this _wasn’t_ his fault after all!

\---

“Prepare to gorge your eyes on an optic feast!” Marvin exclaimed as the party consisting of himself and George arrived at the entrance of the neglected old chemistry room the ensemble were permitted to store their inventions. He ignored the confused _‘Prepare myself to what?’_ from the boy behind him and continued on. “Lewis and Melvin and I have been working on this baby all year, and she’s lookin’ pretty good!” The pair filed into the room and were greeted by the various creations of countless different minds that attended their school. 

To someone who had been on earth longer than George, the lineup might have been less breathtaking, but the boy was nearly strangled by the thought, hard work and creativity that was put into every single piece and gizmo in the room. It wasn’t just a display of the school’s favorite students’ best work any longer; it was a display of what the rest were capable of when they weren’t required to make something just for a grade, just because an adult told them to. George accidentally bumped into Tommy’s ping-pong serve-o-matic while his eyes were glued to a mural on a large canvas one child must have slaved over for… who knows how long! He stood in a room full of things that made these geniuses happy, in a building where doing anything other than fulfilling an uninteresting task was heavily discouraged. Suddenly Melvin was grabbing his arm and leading him further through the room.

“Come on googly eyes, we don’t have all day!” The geek nagged. “PATSY’s over here.” George yanked his arm out of Melvin’s hand and continued to follow from a distance.

“Don’t _drag_ me! Who’s Patsy?” George asked. “Wait, don’t tell me you named your machine Patsy.”

“Maybe we did, maybe we didn’t.”

George’s stomach wrenched, he knew exactly how that stupid taunt ended, and it wrenched more when the geek turned to face him with a smirk that he just wanted to rip off of his face like a fake mustache or a waxed on slip of paper.

“We did.” That smirk grew even wider, he knew it drove George crazy.

“If you don’t turn the heck around and keep walking I’m gonna snap your glasses in half.”

“ _Jeez!_ ” Melvin cried out, doing exactly what George ordered. “What’s your problem?!”

“You know _exactly_ what my problem is, Melvin!” George explained, not really, that wasn’t an explanation at all. 

The two boys walked past the automatic dog-washer, they were getting closer to the rest of the party but didn’t seem to care. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Melvin crossed his arms, unable to see George speeding up his pace to get closer to him.

“Don’t play dumb, Melvin! You know exactly what I’m talking about!”

“You are _so_ immature, do you really think it helps to be all cryptic like that?!”

“I’M NOT A CRYPTID YOU’RE JUST A BIG JERK!” George exploded. “You big jerk!”

“You never tell me what I’m doing wrong!” Melvin shot back.

“I shouldn’t have to! It’s pretty obvious!”

“Oh yeah of course, how could I be so blind?”

“First of all, you’re annoying so mark that down.”

“That’s really helpful, thanks idiot!” As they finally arrived at the end of the room where PATSY sat safely under a protective white sheet, he became acutely aware that Marvin, Lewis and Harold most likely heard the entire heated exchange between him and George. All three boys stared with nearly the same expression, widened eyes, knitted brows, uneasy frowns. Even Sulu, who was sitting atop PATSY, was staring. 

“Would you guys like to, err,” Marvin tried as Melvin continued walking until he was standing behind his two brothers, “uh, tr-try that again?”

George and Melvin gave the same answer simultaneously: “NO.” 

George, with his arms crossed, took his place next to Harold who immediately rested a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You’re not an idiot.” He said softly.

“Alright, so, uh,” Marvin started back up, “Lewis, will you take care of the presentation?” He whispered. Lewis was busy rubbing his hands together, but he quickly looked to Marvin and nodded his head. The other two Sneedlys walked away, disappearing behind a giant hairdryer on wheels one student had crafted. Lewis looked to George and Harold, still rubbing his hands together. 

“So, before we get started,” Lewis said, scooping Sulu into his hands and plopping the hamster inside his shirt pocket, “Lewis wants to know what the heck that was all about?”

“Yeah, George,” Harold agreed, “what did Melvin do this time to make you so mad??”

“Everything.” George said.

Lewis raised a right hand. “Lewis can relate to that.”

“Also, he got our script confiscated by Ms. Ribble because he wouldn’t give it back.”

Harold looked absolutely horrified. “He _what?!_ No, not again,”

“I’m sorry, Harold, I tried to get it back myself but it wasn’t in my classroom anymore, it’s gotta be in Mr. Krupp’s office already.”

“Oh _no!_ ” 

“Don’t worry though, I have an idea.” George said. Harold would have to talk about it more with George later, because George’s attention was quickly stolen by the brown buck-toothed hamster in Lewis’ shirt pocket. “I heard you and your brothers made that hamster in your pocket with Patsy,”

“That’s right! We named him Sulu, would you like to hold him?” Lewis asked.

George was already holding his hands out for the fuzzy critter. “Yes.” He squeaked. Lewis plopped Sulu into George’s hands and went off and dove behind PATSY to find something. One of the many things in life that George loved, aside from writing, and Harold, _and Harold’s art, _was the mild scratchy sensation of a hamster’s little claws in the palms of his hands. Well, George hadn’t exactly held a hamster before, but now he knew this was one of many things that made life worth living. Sulu sniffed George’s fingers, the boy cackled with glee at the tickle of Sulu’s little whiskers.__

____

____

“Isn’t he great?” Harold asked.

“I love him, Harold.” George lifted his hands closer to his face. “Hi, Sulu, I’m George.” Sulu looked up at George and Harold and wiggled his nose at them. The two boys noiselessly squealed.

“Lookit those chompers!” Harold remarked.

“I wish I had teeth like that.” George added.

Sulu was flattered.

George and Harold briefly took their eyes off of the hamster in the author’s tiny hands to see Lewis, a blue sheet of paper clamped in his lips, pulling the white sheet off of PATSY.

“Cool,” George exclaimed, “a copying machine!”

“With a light bulb on it.” Harold added.

They felt Melvin’s soul coiling in anguish somewhere in the room.

“Almost!” Lewis said, patting the modified copying machine’s protective lid. “Come closer, come closer, come closer!” He beckoned. George and Harold did so. When they reached PATSY, George set Sulu down ontop of her lid.

“Hey, uhh, Lewis? What does PATSY stand for again?” Harold asked.

“Photo-Atomic Trans-Somgobulating Yectofantriplutonic-zanziptomizer.” Lewis pointedly answered.

“Ohh,” George said, “it _stands_ for something.”

“Yep,” Harold giggled.

“Anyway,” Lewis started back up, laying the blue paper down ontop of PATSY and scooping his hamster into his pocket again. George and Harold curiously inspected the paper the Sneedly triplet placed infront of them. “PATSY copies images and turns them into the real thing. Lewis and his brothers made Sulu with the blueprint setting.” The blueprints consisted of a sketch of the hamster in Lewis’ pocket, then his robotic skeletal system, organs, the measurements of his size. It impressed Harold, but George was still skeptical. 

“Why would you need blueprints to make a hamster?” George asked.

“Well, you wouldn’t for a normal hamster, PATSY needed the information that we wanted something special that would really show what she’s capable of. If you wanted a plain old hamster, you could just draw one without much instruction for her to follow.”

George nodded his head. “Of course. Well if Sulu’s really a bionic hamster, then why don’t you prove it?”

Melvin leapt out from behind one student’s portable desktop computer. “We _will,_ Beard!” He called out, Marvin following after him. “Lewis, have Sulu do a super bionic jump across the room.” To Melvin’s disappointment, Lewis shrugged, scratching Sulu’s soft head. “What are you shrugging for?” He asked.

“Uhh, Mel, Sulu’s kinda grumpy because we forgot to bring his food, he’s not gonna do anything we ask him right now,” Marvin explained.

“ _What?!_ ” Melvin erupted. “How could you--?!”

“Oh, but I’m sure he’ll do what you guys want him to at the Invention Convention, right?” George asked, causing Melvin’s jaw to clench.

“Well we weren’t planning on bringing him somewhere so chaotic,” Lewis said, “but, maybe we’ll have to now.”

Harold sighed. “Man, you guys really had me goin’ there.” George placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Let’s go, Harold.”

Melvin reached his hands out, shouting for George and Harold to stay and he rushed to pull Sulu out of Lewis’ shirt pocket and plopped him down onto PATSY’s lid. “Sulu, do a super bionic jump across the room!” He ordered.

Sulu didn’t respond. 

Melvin’s face turned bright red. “Sulu, I’m your master and you’re supposed to do what I say! Now do a super bionic jump, onto Priianka’s car dryer!” Melvin gestured to the giant hair dryer on wheels. “It’s not that far,” 

Sulu settled himself onto his fuzzy tail end, squeaking in defiance.

“YOU BAD HAMSTER!!” Melvin cried out.

“Melvin please relax, it doesn’t matter if George and Harold don’t believe us right now!” Marvin reasoned.

“This is getting kinda sad,” George whispered to Harold.

“Yeah maybe we should just back away and they won’t notice,” Harold suggested, matching George’s hushed tone.

“NO! We’re not just going to settle for such a poorly disciplined cybernetic creature!!” Melvin complained. “One more time Sulu, because we can replace you if we want! Do a…” Melvin deflated as the hamster simply got up and trailed off to the far end of PATSY’s lid. “Fine! You ungrateful rodent! I never want to see you again in my life!!” With that, Melvin ran away, bumping hard into Tommy’s ping-pong serve-o-matic on his way out.

“ _MELVIN!!_ ” Marvin shrieked, chasing after him. “WE CAN’T JUST _ABANDON_ SULU!!!” 

“HE’S A GOOD BOY HE’S JUST HUNGRY!” Lewis followed after them, accidentally leaving Sulu behind, hopefully with the intention of returning for him. Whatever the intention, it didn’t matter to the two boys who ultimately stayed behind. They approached the side of PATSY that the crestfallen cybernetic creature had settled himself.

“Poor Sulu.” Harold said. He reached with a finger and softly rubbed under Sulu's furry chin. George pet Sulu's fluffy back.

“We know how bad Melvin can get too,” George said, outstretching his hand palm up beside the hamster, “but don’t worry, we can take you in if you want, you don’t deserve to live with such a jerk.”

“Yeah! You can live in our treehouse!”

Sulu crawled closer to George’s hand and bumped it with a velvety button nose before softly clawing onto the boy’s palm. The boys grinned wide at their new pet, a handful of shaggy brown fur and whiskers, and their pet grinned back at them, showing off his buck teeth.

“I heard hamsters can eat bananas.” Harold offered.

George slipped Sulu into his shirt pocket. “Good thinking, Harold! Let’s go get one from the cafeteria so Sulu doesn’t go hungry.”

“Thanks!” Harold said as the party of three made their way for the exit. “I’ve been trying to do more of that recently, thinking,” George laughed and punched Harold in the arm.

“You know, I’m impressed with all the different inventions from all these different kids this time around!” George remarked, looking at everything as they passed it all one final time.

“Yeah!” Harold agreed, eyes glued to the same mural George was smitten with earlier. As he continued to stare, he slammed into Tommy’s ping-pong serve-o-matic. Harold quietly stepped away and trailed behind George.

“Like that car dryer from earlier!! It just looks like a giant hairdryer! That’s crazy!”

“Ohhh,” Harold broke off from the group to pass by various inventions and inspect more closely a contraption that caught his eye, a rolling counter it looked like, a large purple tube overarched the surface where whoever sat in it would be sprayed with soap and water from the adjustable nozzles attached. At the front of it were buttons to operate the machine with and in the back, where Harold stood, were two openings where the water and soap would be refilled. “George, George, look at this one! An automatic dog washer!!” He patted his hands on the sitting surface excitedly. “I could use one of these!”

George joined his friend’s side, idly scratching Sulu’s head. “But you don’t have a dog.”

“No doyee. I bet getting clean would be so much easier with this thing!” Harold said, eyeing the nozzles with peppy desire.

“Man, why can’t you just wash yourself like a normal person?” George asked, earning a humiliated glance from his friend.

“I do! I just don’t like to,”

“What are you, a dog?”

“George!”

A string of squeaks eminated from Sulu as if to join their conversation. “Sorry, Sulu,” George tenderly patted the top of Sulu’s head with a finger and the boys rerouted for the exit, “let’s go get your banana.”

“Banana time!” Harold cheered.

\---

Ten minutes the invention room was empty before the Sneedly Triplets returned to find Sulu was no longer where they accidentally left him. And he wasn’t under PATSY or Priianka Powers’ car dryer, or in the car dryer, or behind the mural Nauda Witts painted. They even double checked to make sure Sulu hadn’t fallen into Tommy Lockerd-Weller’s ping-pong serve-o-matic! They carefully searched every conceivable inch of the invention room, but their hamster was nowhere to be found. Marvin was hit the hardest with their loss, he had thrown himself over a long underused experiment table.“Our poor, miserable, dejected Sulu! He must be so heartbroken and lonely,” he agonized, frantically wiping at falling tears with magenta sleeves, “he doesn’t understand the outside world, he couldn’t have gone outside!” Lewis approached and tenderly rubbed one of Marvin’s shoulders. Melvin snuck up next, leaning close to Lewis’ ear to bicker under the hiccups and wails of Marvin’s lamentation.

“Why did you have to leave him behind, Lewis?!” 

Lewis whipped his attention away from Marvin, ready to stab back. “Well maybe if _you_ hadn’t talked to him like a simple-minded slave in the first place--” 

“STOP!” Marvin shouted over them, turning to face his brothers. “You know, it can be more than one person’s fault.” Melvin and Lewis glanced at eachother.

“That’s stupid.” Melvin said.

“It’s not!” The dork sniffled. “Now, Sulu’s a very strong, very smart hamster, so he can fend for himself for however long it takes for us to find him. As long as he’s not outside, we’ll find him by the end of the school day at the latest!”

“And you’re gonna be nicer to Sulu! Be nicer to Sulu, be nicer to Sulu.” Lewis added, nose pointed in Melvin’s face.

Melvin gulped. “I know, I overreacted a little,”

Lewis didn’t back away. “A little? A little? A little?!” 

Melvin’s face twisted into an expression of disdain. “I have three words for you, _chill chill chill!_ ” Lewis slapped Melvin over the shoulder, the youngest Sneedly blubbered and rubbed the hurt area. Then he kicked Lewis in the shin.

“PLEASE COMPOSE YOURSELVES!” Marvin cried out.

\---

“Uh-oh, uh, George?” Harold started as the three friends journeyed down the hallway.

“What’s wrong?” George looked up from the hamster tucked comfortably in his shirt pocket.

“Our treehouse isn’t very hamster proof,”

“Sulu’s a smart hamster!” George assured Harold. “He’ll do just as fine as we do in our treehouse.”

“Well, like, he needs somewhere to go to the bathroom. And, we have lots of food lying around on the floor still that he could just eat that might not be very good for him, and we can tell him not to eat it but he doesn’t actually have to listen to us!”

“ _Well don’t tell him that!_ ” George scowled, covering Sulu’s tiny ears too late. George uncovered Sulu’s ears. “We’ll clean it up.”

“And the bathroom??”

“Maybe a cat box would work?”

“Those are so big and sandy though!”

“Well yeah! We wouldn’t have to worry about changing it for who knows how long because hamster poops are just little pellets.” Harold visibly did not want a cat box taking up room in their treehouse. “Okay, we’ll think of something better than that, we can’t have him going outside.”

“Heyyy!” Harold snapped his fingers, and cringed immediately after. George exhaled heavily.

“ _Don’t do that!_ ”

“It was an accident-- I didn’t mean to snap, it just happened!” The two boys stood smooshed together, eyes cautiously scanning the premises for a bald guy prancing around in his underwear.

“I don’t think Krupp’s around,”

“Thank goodness.”

Sulu squeaked in confusion.

“It’s a long story, Sulu.” George said.

“A long story you don’t need to know about.” Harold added.

“Well, I guess we’re lucky.” George concluded. “Just be more careful with your expressive actions, Harold.”

“I promise.” Harold raised his right hand.

“What were you gonna say before you snapped those fingers?” 

“I was going to say maybe we-”

A virtuous voice boomed from the wide open door of a teacher’s bathroom. There, a capeless Captain Underpants stood. “AHA! There you are, sidekicks!” 

“ _AAAARGH!!_ ” Harold screamed into his shirt.

“Nonono wait this is good!” George said.

“I agree with you, George!” Captain Underpants bounded to George and Harold and tenderly placed his hands atop the boys’ heads, ruffling their hair gently and earning an _‘I hope you washed your hands.’_ from George. “It’s good to see you too. Ah!” Captain retracted his hands and motioned to Sulu, “and who’s this endearing clump of fur in your pocket?”

“What do you mean this is good?!” Harold asked, ignoring Captain Underpants’ question.

“This is Sulu, Sulu, this is Captain Underpants.” George rambled, scooping Sulu out of his pocket and setting the even more confused hamster in the hero’s hands. “Be gentle with him!” George said before turning his attention to Harold. “This is good because this was part of my idea!”

“... Captain Underpants was part of your ‘idea?’”

“No! I mean-- we should ask Mr. Krupp for our script back because we wanna enter it in the Invention Convention!”

“WHAT?!”

The Captain held Sulu in one mighty hand and reached the index finger and thumb of his free one to shake a paw with. “Nice to meet you, Sulu. I’m Captain Underpants, do you have any superpowers?” Sulu sat on his hind paws and sniffed at the expectant fingers infront of him, the Captain giggled like a child. “Your whiskers tickle!” He remarked, voice gaining an adoring baby tone to it along with his lips pouting into a tiny smile. “You’re just a cute little hamster aren’t you? Yes you are, yes you are, look at you!” He softly scratched Sulu’s shaggy head. Sulu was still confused, but he wasn’t about to complain while getting some good head scratches.

While the Captain was delightfully pacified with George and Harold’s new friend, the two continued on like he wasn’t there. “Harold, don’t forget all that cool stuff that’s gonna be at this week's Invention Convention! If we tell Mr. Krupp we need it back because we want to enter it into the convention, he might understand and give it back!”

“You mean, you wanna ask the guy who put _‘Mr. Krupp Day’_ in the original spirit week memo for our notebook back so we, us, _together,_ can enter one of our comics into the Invention Convention?” Harold clarified.

George brought his hands together. “I said he _might_ understand.”

“So! What shall we do first, sidekicks?” The Captain asked, gently tucking Sulu back into George’s shirt pocket. “Roam the city, keeping watch for evildoers?”

“I have a better idea, Captain.” George said.

“What’s that, George?” 

“Get your clothes from the bathroom and put them back on; look where we are!” George gestured wildly from the floor to the ceiling.

“Oh,” Captain turned bright red, “whoops!” Then he saluted his sidekicks. “I’ll be back. TRA-LA-LAAAA!” He soared into the teacher’s bathroom and threw the door open, eyeing Mr. Krupp’s clothes on the floor. “Let’s see here.” The nearly naked man touched down and slipped his shoes on, then he plucked his pants from the ground to see his socks lying beneath them. “Oh, cheese and crackers!” He cursed, rolling his eyes at his mistake and slipping his shoes back off. “Tedious things, why do humans find them so necessary?” Captain dropped his pants back onto the floor and picked his socks up, trying to put one on while standing and toppling over into the wall like a jenga tower. “Ough!” Captain groaned in frustration.

“Captain Underpants?” George called from the other side of the bathroom door. “Do you need some help?”

“No! Nope, I know how to do this now, guys. Just gimmie a second.”

“Maybe we have time to get that banana for Sulu while Cap’s getting ready,” Harold whispered.

“Oh! Would you look at that, putting socks on is much easier while flying!” Captain Underpants said. “You two should try it sometime!”

Once the Captain had all of his 'disguise' on, he stepped out of the bathroom once again, toupee looking like it was about to slip off, pants pulled far too high, and necktie still crudely tied around his neck. No matter how many times George offered he would never be allowed to correct it. “Now! Shall we scan the school for evildoers? I wonder how those teachers’ attitudes have improved since my last intervention.”

“Nono! No interventions!” George said. “Uhh, we need you to, splash some water on your face! You look a little like you need to freshen up.”

“Oh? Well, thank you for warning me.” The Captain turned once again to go back into the bathroom.

“NO DON’T DO THAT!” Harold screamed, causing Captain Underpants to stop with his hand on the doorknob. 

“I’m confused,” Captain said.

“You look fine! We uhh, w-we need you to take us to the principal’s office.”

“Harold! We can’t have Captain Underpants runnin’ around here again!” George hissed.

“We _also_ can’t just walk up to Mr. Krupp together without getting in trouble!”

“Well he’s gonna see us together at the Invention Convention.”

“That’s different!”

George sucked a breath in through his nostrils. “... I’m getting the feeling that getting in trouble is something that _bothers_ you.”

“This Mister Krupp you’re talking about,” Captain Underpants butted in, “he sounds like a mighty obstacle to you two.”

“Oh, if only you knew.” George muttered, covering his face. 

“Then why don’t you let me?” The Captain suggested. Harold and George, and Sulu, stared at him in confusion. “Tell me!” He whined. “Captain Underpants wants to help his dear sidekicks!”

“It’s best if we don’t, buddy.” George said. “It’ll be more helpful for you to just walk us to the principal’s office, we need to find something that was taken from us.”

“Alright, then.” The Captain complied. “Now, where is this principal’s office again?”

The two boys got behind the Captain in order to push him in the direction they needed to go, and saw that he wasn’t skilled in the art of tucking-the-back-of-your-shirt-in. “This way, Captain.” Harold said.

“Alright, boys!” The Captain cheerily let himself be pushed.

“And you didn’t tuck your shirt in all the way!” George added.

“It’s haaaaard!” Captain Underpants whined, causing George and Harold to huff in disbelief.

“I’ll do it.” George grumbled.

“Thank you!”

\---

The door to Mr. Krupp’s office creaked open for the two boys and their hero in disguise to walk in. George and Harold were set on finding their script, but something else caught Captain’s eye. “Ah! There she is!!” Captain Underpants tossed his arms out and ran to the black-spotted red curtain that concealed the sunlight from the rest of the room. He caressed the rough fabric, knowing that he couldn’t tear it off and tie it around his neck. “The best cape in the world.” He tossed the curtain aside to look out Mr. Krupp’s window, revealing the him-shaped hole that had been untouched since the day of his hypnotization. “Ooh! Do you remember when I made that, sidekicks?! Good times.” He stuck his face out of the hole and inhaled the fresh air.

“DON’T JUMP OUT THE WINDOW!” George cried out. The Captain frowned.

“I wasn’t gonna!” He said, closing the curtain with a lingering grip before sidling up to the desk to lean against it. “What are we looking for, sidekicks?”

“Your origin story!” Harold said, dumping the contents of the recycling bin onto the ground.

“My origin story,” the Captain repeated. “May I read it?”

Harold and George exchanged a contemplative look from across the room. “Not yet, Cap, it’s not finished yet.”

Captain Underpants crossed his arms and tapped his foot, eyes darting around the room for something else that could be entertaining. “Alright then, hmm,” he picked up Mr. Krupp’s name plate. “So, I’ve been parading around as this M-R Krupp, eh? The plot thickens,” He set the name plate down and cupped his chin. “Strange he wanted it shortened, Mister is a handsome name.” George and Harold giggled, _of course_ he thought Mister was Mr. Krupp’s first name. “So, this Mister Krupp is your principal, he’s an opponent of you two, and therefore he’s an opponent of mine. And to add onto that, he wants to withhold my origin story from the rest of the world! He’s not just an opponent, he’s a villain!”

“Don’t worry about it, Cap. He didn’t take it, somebody gave it to him.” George explained before gasping. “It must be in the filing cabinet he dedicated to us!”

“Man, I almost forgot!” Harold said as he and George rushed to the cabinet in the corner of the room with the drawer labeled _‘George and Harold.’_ George pulled it open and the two boys began to rummage through it.

“Nice deduction!” The Captain complimented, taking a seat at Mr. Krupp’s desk and looking down at the red notebook lying infront of him. He stared at the sketches of a dog in a police costume and a mean-lookin’ cat that littered the cover. “Where have I seen these two before...?”

“It can’t _not_ be in here!” George cried out in frustration, slamming the notebook-less drawer shut. “If it’s not in here, then where, then where?” The author wiped his face and frowned deeply at Harold. “Harold, I’m so sorry I got our notebook lost.” Harold softly rubbed George’s shoulder.

“No, it’s not your fault, remember? Melvin got it taken away.”

“So _Melvin’s_ the villain…” Captain concluded, flipping the pages of the notebook just for the sound, which got George’s and Harold’s attention.

“Captain!” Harold exclaimed. “Where did you find that??”

“Oh this thing? It was right here when I sat down!”

“You found our script, Captain Underpants!” George cheered as they rushed to the desk and stood on the tips of their toes to meet the level of the desk. Captain Underpants let out a triumphant laugh, watching his sidekicks reach for their notebook and slide it into their hands.

“All this searching has made me parched,” Captain noted, reaching for the water bottle which was inconveniently sitting on the desk as well. The two boys were too relieved to see their hero twist the bottle open and take a swig, then he noticed his toupee was on sideways, and his pants were pulled up too high for comfort. “Wha--?” He dropped his water bottle onto the desk and it toppled and spilled nearly everywhere before he stood it back up. “When did you two get here?! When did _I_ get here?!” George and Harold stared at their principal who turned back into his old unpleasant self.

“We, w-w-we, wuh, wuh…” Harold answered.

“That doesn’t matter,” Mr. Krupp said, snatching the notebook out of George’s and Harold’s hands, “I know you two changed the forecasting board this morning, and that’s the kind of behavior I’ve been trying to prevent by moving Harold to a different class! What do I have to do to get you two to behave?!” He inquired, focusing his attention on the notebook with Harold’s drawings all over the cover and opened it. “I’ll raise the stakes if I have to, if you two think getting separated is bad enough, just wait ‘till…” He saw the words _‘Captain Underpants the Origin Issue’_ and sighed heavily before closing it. "So," Mr. Krupp started back up, a smile growing over his face, "you boys must be here to confess."

"Confess?" Harold asked. "For what?"

"Oh, you know... THE FORECASTING BOARD!!!"

“No, we're not!” George said. “Ms. Anthrope asked us to hand out the Spirit Week memos, _you’re welcome,_ and now we want that notebook back because it’s the script for Captain Underpants the Origin Issue and we wanna enter it into the Invention Convention. That's why we're here!”

Mr. Krupp only smiled wider, a lax giggle rumbling out of him like a storm alarm. “You two know you’re not supposed to be together during school,”

George shrank, no longer standing on the tips of his toes. “Well, no, yeah, we know that,”

Mr. Krupp’s teeth bared, unable to repress his own giddy chuckles, and he leaned forward in his seat. “And you two, you want to enter into this week’s Invention Convention?”

“Yeah,” Harold squeaked.

“With this pad of paper?” His laughter only grew more amused. George glanced at Harold to see his friend’s face was beet red.

“It’s the script, we’re not done with the comic yet!” George explained.

“Oh, yes, of course… Here.” Mr. Krupp slid the notebook across the desk and George caught it. “But I’m sorry to tell you, you two can’t enter.”

"What?" Harold breathed.

George stared at their principal in intense disbelief. "Why not?!"

"Oh, boys, you couldn't _possibly_ believe I forgot that whole incident with Melvin's robo-toilet. You two have been banned as a preventative measure so the convention will run as smoothly as possible." The boys felt heavier at those words. George looked back down at the notebook, scanning over Harold's little doodles of Dogman and Petey and, a few dolphins scattered here and there. George looked back up at their principal, ready to snap, but right as he brought his fingers together, the office door swung open once more. The three looked over to see Edith, Spirit Week memo in a gloved hand, heading right for Mr. Krupp’s desk, “Oh, Edith! What’s going, uhh-- what’s--??” and she gave him a rough, sloppy kiss on the cheek. 

“Ewww!” George and Harold whined, shielding eachother’s eyes.

“ _She put her mouth on his cheek!_ ” Harold whispered ecstatically.

“That _cannot_ be sanitary!” George whispered back.

“You know you didn’t have to, Benny,” Edith cooed, petting Mr. Krupp’s toupee.

“Oh! Y-y-you saw, you saw the memo already??” Mr. Krupp sputtered, face glowing like a christmas light and subconsciously leaning into Edith’s touch. “I-I-I, uh, I wanted it to be a surprise for you,”

“D’aww, puddin’ pop, I _am_ surprised!” 

“Well, uh, good! That’s good.”

“I’ll see you at the party.” Edith said, kissing Mr. Krupp on the cheek one final time before noticing George and Harold who were busy covering eachother’s eyes from the display of affection. “Oh! Oh, I’m sorry, I’m interruptin’ somethin’, I’m so sorry,”

“No! It’s fine,” Mr. Krupp said, thumping his elbow down onto the desk and resting a cheek on his palm, “you’re fine. _Right boys?_ ”

“Oh, yeah,” George agreed, still covering Harold’s eyes and vice versa. 

“Are you guys done kissing yet?” Harold asked.

An embarrassed laugh hiccuped out of Edith. “We are, don’t worry.” George and Harold uncovered their eyes. “Thanks for showin’ me the memo, boys!” Edith called as she walked back out the door, closing it behind herself.

“ _You two gave her one?!_ ” Mr. Krupp asked. 

“Ms. Anthrope didn't tell us _not_ to.” George said.

“ _Edith..._ ” George and Harold gave Krupp a funny look, “ _Anthrope, Edith is our secretary's first name as well,_ ”

“Oh! That’s right,” Harold recalled.

Mr. Krupp adjusted his toupee which was now smoothed down in one part where Edith had adoringly pet it only a few seconds earlier. “Well, alright." Mr. Krupp said, clasping his hands together. "You two successfully handed out those memos I assume, and… I don’t have any valid proof that you two actually changed the forecasting board though it was _highly likely._ ” His hands gripped eachother tighter. “Just let this encounter sit as a warning. And also you’re not allowed to go to Tara’s party during recess. Yeah, actually, not a warning, you two have detention during the retirement party.”

“Oh, dang, we really wanted to go to that party. But, I guess we’ll just.. Sit in the detention room.” George said.

“Oh, no you two don’t! You’re still not supposed to be together during school hours!” Mr. Krupp barked. “George, make yourself at home here.” He said, standing up and walking toward the two boys with his hands clasped behind his back.

“... What’s that supposed to mean?” Harold asked, George shrugged in response.

“It means, I only have one other option to keep you two _really_ separated during your detention, Harold.” Mr. Krupp said, lifting Harold up by the scruff of his green and white striped shirt. Harold went into silent shock the second he was lifted off the ground.

“Hey, _hey hey hey!!_ ” George cried out, chasing after Mr. Krupp as he made his way for the door with Harold. “Put him down! _Harold!!_ ” He followed them right to the office door. As soon as Krupp stepped out of the room, he turned to face George, inches infront of the doorway.

“ _George…_ ” Harold whispered anxiously.

Krupp only smiled wider at George before slamming the door shut in the troublemaker's face. George gasped and latched onto the doorknob in a panic. “ _NO!!_ ” He tried to pull the door open, but Mr. Krupp easily held it shut. “NO! Nononono, _you can't, no, don't!!_ ” George heard the sound of the lock clicking into action. "HAROLD!"

Harold watched on as Mr. Krupp’s office door continued to rattle after he was set down, and suddenly Mr. Krupp had him by the arm and was leading him farther and farther from where George stood behind the door. It was at that point when he heard George cry _‘LET ME OUT!’_ Harold snapped out of his shocked trance and fought against his principal’s grip. It was a given that Harold couldn’t break free since he was so much younger and smaller than Mr. Krupp, but add on the super strength his principal wasn’t aware he possessed and Harold found that, maybe, if he fought too hard, Mr. Krupp might actually snap his arm on accident from holding too tight. “ _Principal Krupp!_ You can’t just lock George in there for an hour or-or-or however long recess actually is!!”

“Oh, _but I could,_ ” Mr. Krupp said, dragging Harold outside of the empty receptionist’s office and then closing and locking its door as well, “I won’t though. Think of this as a time out, I’ll be back in ten minutes. I can bring you two some punch or chunky tofu ice crea...” He shuddered before he could finish his sentence.

Harold gulped hard, and then he crossed his arms and tapped his little foot. “George has our hamster in there and we were supposed to get a banana for him so he didn’t get hungry!”

“That’s a nice story, Harold.” Mr. Krupp said. “Anything else before I go?”

Harold slumped against the office door and slid down to sit, feeling something fold in his back pocket. “Uh, well.. I mean, I guess, if I really can’t go to Ms. Ribble’s retirement party,” he started, pulling the envelope that contained the card Ms. Anthrope had signed previously, “then I won’t give her the card my classroom made for her! Ever!”

On cue, Mr. Krupp snatched the pastel purple envelope out of Harold’s hand and slipped it into his shirt pocket. “I’ll make sure it gets to her.” He said with a condescending smile. “I’ll give it to her myself. _You’re welcome._ ” And then, he walked right off.

Harold fist pumped.

“... Maybe if I yell loud enough at the door George will hear me.”

\---

“Maybe if I yell loud enough at the door Harold will hear me,” George wondered aloud after giving up on rattling Mr. Krupp’s office door, in response, Sulu squeaked his protest. “You must be really hungry now, huh? I’m sorry we got trapped in here, Sulu. We’re gonna have to wait for that banana now until Mr. Krupp comes back…” George said, sitting down, back against the door. Which was coincidentally adjacent from the unrepaired window with a Mr. Krupp shaped hole in it. “Unless...” the author smiled and stood, walking up to the window and looking out of the hole he could easily fit through, then he looked down, “the last time I jumped down there, I _needed_ to.” Then he looked into Sulu’s hungry little eyes. “.... I need to.”

George determinedly clamped the notebook inbetween his teeth, then he swung open the smaller window closest to the flagpole outside and leapt out, clinging onto the pole as he slid down to the ground. Then he ran for the front double doors of Jerome Horwitz. George made sure not to stop running until Harold was in his sight, and he yelled for his friend’s attention with their script still in his mouth. Harold stood, eyes wide, and met George at the head of the stairs. “George! How did you get out?!”

George took the script out of his mouth. “I jumped out the window.” Harold hugged him, careful not to squish the hamster in George’s shirt pocket.

“We gotta get out of here fast, Krupp said he’s coming back for us in ten minutes!”

They started back down the stairs for the cafeteria.

“Oh man, he’s gonna be so mad!” George remarked.

“I have a feeling that he’s going to forget he isolated us like that.”

“Honestly? I hope so. I don’t wanna be runnin’ into him later.”

Thankfully, as George, Harold and Sulu went past room 4, where Ms. Ribble’s retirement was being celebrated, the door was closed so no one would see the pair of misfits passing them by to reach the cafeteria. Unbeknownst to the boys and their hamster, they were pretty lucky to not be where the rest of their fellow 4th graders were. After the kids had been rounded up by their teachers, they were all forced to fit into that one classroom, which, didn’t have enough seats for everybody. Fortunately, the kids solved the problem by having the ones who didn’t have chairs settle themselves on the floor, or on desks and tables. Unfortunately, everyone had to stand in the end because it was improper to sit on anything that wasn’t made for sitting on, and it was impolite for the students with chairs to sit while the others stood. To make things worse, over the time it took to address the seating problem, the chunky tofu ice cream that Edith made special for the event had melted. Nobody ate it. Well, Ms. Ribble would have, but she wasn’t the kind of woman who’d pick out the pieces of tofu from the melted ice cream infront of everyone. While all the kids sang a song for Ms. Ribble, which was just happy birthday but with retirement-related lyrics, Mr. Krupp handed her the pastel purple envelope he had snatched from Harold earlier. “I went to alot of trouble to get this for you,” he muttered under the singing, just loud enough for Ribble to hear.

“Thanks, Ben.” Ms. Ribble whispered back before turning her attention to the singing children, who had begun to _sound_ uncomfortable during their singing. “YOU’RE ALL OFFKEY! SING IT AGAIN!”

During the second round of singing, most of the teachers gathered in one corner because, they wouldn’t dare say it out loud but, this party was _boring._ And Edith, who wasn’t really in any place to do anything to improve the party, thought she heard a couple kids speaking in hushed voices about how much better it would be if George and Harold were here. She had officially tuned out from the quiet and idle exchanges between the other staff members, like Ms. Hurd complimenting Mr. Rustworthy's piano-themed tie and Mr. Meaner asking Miss Fitt and Ms. Guided where the punch cups were, and heard better the wistful whispers that said things like: _‘They’d probably have melted the ice cream before the party and soaked Ms. Ribble with it!’ ‘No, I think they’d make a giant stink bomb and make it explode inside the classroom to get everybody out.’ ‘I bet you this rock that they have something planned right now!’_ Honestly, she wished those two rambunctious little pranksters her Benny always complained about were here too.

Her curiosity got the best of her. “Ben, what did you do with George and Harold?” Edith asked.

“Hm?” Mr. Krupp stupidly looked up at her from his cup of punch. That one violet eye of hers was scrutinizing him, he took his lips off of the cup to speak. “Oh, them? I put them on time out, I’m gonna go get them in,” he looked over at the clock on the wall, “seven minutes.”

“I’ll go with you. There’s no way I’d survive here alone.” She held his hand. He blushed and grinned at her, thumbing her hand softly.

Once the singing was finally over, Ms. Ribble had gone to reading cards after slipping that purple envelope at the end of the stack. Over the time it took her to read through them all, she tore some of them up for varying reasons like some kids wrote something different than the poem they were instructed to copy inside, she made sure to read those to the party before tearing them up, or some kids colored their butterflies with yellow polkadots. Poor Stephanie Yarkoff mistakenly put a smiling sun on her card and had to stand in a corner of the room for ten minutes.

“You know, Harold made a card too and it almost went to waste when I put him on time out with George, but I got it here for him.” Mr. Krupp bragged to Edith.

“Oh, Benjamin Krupp, you gentleman.” Edith said sarcastically.

Finally, Ms. Ribble tore open the purple envelope and blurted out what she read on the front of the card to the rest of the party. “You’re _one hot mama?_ ” She was visibly shocked. Edith witnessed Mr. Krupp nearly choke and spit his punch back into his cup. The children cried out a chorus of _‘eeeeeeewwwww!!’_ s.

Ms. Ribble opened the card. “ _Will you marry me??_ Love, Edith Anthrope…” Ms. Ribble looked up from the card slowly, eyes falling on the school receptionist, who had even dotted the I in her name with a heart. All of the staff members gasped in shock and the room fell silent. “Edith,” Ms. Ribble looked behind herself at the exceptional porcelain butterfly clock Ms. Anthrope gave her before the party, it sat on her desk next to her computer, “I had no idea.” She grumbled, looking back over at Ms. Anthrope who turned an unflattering shade of scarlet and began to sweat.

“Huh,” Mr. Krupp said, setting his cup down and staring at the ground in a deep confusion.

“What a twist of events!!” Ms. Hurd cried out, clasping her hands together and rushing to Ms. Anthrope’s side. “That’s sooooo sweet! You must be pretty lucky to have had the opportunity to propose this way, huh?!”

Ms. Anthrope tried to speak up, she tried to tell everyone they all had been fooled by one malicious, conniving little boy and that she was in fact _not_ ready for marriage, but she could only translate everything she wanted to say to: “B-b-bubba bobba hob-hobba-hobba wah-wah.”

“Yeah, uh,” Mr. Krupp said, approaching Ms. Anthrope next and patting her trembling shoulder, “congratulations?” Edith had followed him and she nudged him. “Congratulations!” He repeated with more gusto.

“I know just what to do! I’ll plan the whole weddin’ so you two lovebirds don’t have nothin’ to worry about, we’ll have it right here at the school!” Edith said, ignoring Ms. Anthrope's horrified expression while hugging her and then giving one to Ms. Ribble.

“Uhhh, Great, thanks,” Ms. Ribble said, awkwardly patting Edith while receiving her hug.

Mr. Meaner came up and clapped Ms. Ribble on the back. "Good luck with _that_ ball and chain!" He teased with a hearty laugh. Ms. Ribble only stared at him, her cateye glasses enhancing the unamused look on her face. Mr. Meaner submissively backed away and returned to trying to find the cups.

"Oh! Look at that, it's been seven minutes, let's go Edith." Said Mr. Krupp, lightly tugging on Edith's apron before heading for the door.

"Alright," Edith finally let go of Ms. Ribble to follow the elementary school principal out of the room. "We'll be back!"

Among the half-hearted _'Bye'_ s, the two lovers also heard "If I don't get a cup in ten more minutes I'm drinking right outta the punch bowl!" From Mr. Meaner before Edith shut the door behind them.

\---

The second Mr. Krupp pulled a banana out of his pants pocket, Edith couldn't restrain a gruff chuckle. "Oh! _Honey,_ was that a banana in your pocket or-"

" _Edith!_ "

The lunch lady snorted. "So, why d'you have that?" 

Mr. Krupp sighed before explaining. "Well, he was probably lying, but..." He groaned. "No, he must have been lying, I just-"

"Go on and tell me, I won't laugh at you for bein' a big ol' softy." Said Edith, smiling wide at her boyfriend and poking his soft waist.

"Okay," Mr. Krupp pushed her hand away, pretending he wasn't blushing, "well, before I left, Harold said he and George brought a hamster to school and that they wanted to get this, this banana, for it."

Edith loudly clasped her gloved hands together. "D'aaawww! You sweetie pie."

"No! No, I'm not sweet, I was just-"

"You've _been_ sweet! I think it's good for you to be nicer to those boys." They started up the stairs for Mr. Krupp's and Ms. Anthrope's office.

"Edith, we've been over this, that's not what's going to change those two for the better! The only thing that gets through their heads is punishment, they love it!"

"Hogwash, nobody likes gettin' in trouble, Ben."

"Well boo-hoo, they should just stop doing stupid stuff and then I'll stop punishing them!"

They stopped at the foot of the stairs. The hallway was Haroldless.

"What's wrong, puddin'?" Asked Edith.

"Huh, Harold was sitting right infront of that door when I left, he doesn't have anything else to do," Mr. Krupp walked to Ms. Anthrope's door and looked around himself before unlocking the door.

Edith's stomach dropped. "Harold was on this side of other Edith's door? Where did you put George?"

"I locked him in my office so he and Harold couldn't cause any more trouble during the party."

"Oh, Benjamin! Unlock that door right now!!" Edith stomped in after him, Mr. Krupp ran to the office door.

"I'm doing it, yeesh!"

"You can't just lock a kid in a room without any food or water, I can't believe you-- you-- you got them a banana!"

"It was just for ten minutes!! Also I _told_ you I'm not sweet!" The door was unlocked and Mr. Krupp tossed it open to see his office was empty. "... George?" Edith shoved him aside and rushed into the office to find George.

"You can come out now, George! George? It's okay now, where are ya, chipmunk?" Edith got on her hands and knees and looked under Mr. Krupp's desk.

"Oh my God."

Edith peaked over the desk to see Mr. Krupp looking down from the hole in his window. "Oh my God??" Edith stood and dashed to his side. "You did this! I can't believe you, is the poor little thing dead?!"

Mr. Krupp shook his head slowly. "No," after Edith took in the lack of a dead body or just intensely harmed child on the ground below Mr. Krupp's window, she noticed him pointing to the smaller, opened window that was closest to the flag pole. "The little McGuiver jumped down the flag pole, and then he must have ran back inside from the front of the school to get Harold. And now they could be anywhere." Edith placed a gloved hand over her chest.

"Oh, thank goodness, I thought he was hurt,"

"I, am getting, _so_ sick of these boys..." Mr. Krupp growled, throwing his banana onto the ground. "That's it, maybe I should just suspend one or both of them, expel them permanently! I can't do this I can't deal with them anymore they're driving me insane!!"

"Alright, bring it in, Skeletor." Edith hugged Mr. Krupp and he wept pathetically into her chest.

"Nothing works on them! They just get worse and worse.. I'm running out of punishments.. my window's broken.. I ONLY HAVE KETCHUP IN MY FRIDGE!!"

"What?"

"It's a figure of speech I totally don't have a Spendco industrial-sized bottle of ketchup in my fridge that would be ridiculous. I have other things... in my fridge..."

While that was a kind of specific description of this figurative ketchup, and she didn't really know what a single giant bottle of ketchup in an otherwise empty fridge was supposed to symbolize, Edith decided to believe him and patted her boyfriend on the back. "Well, maybe you need a new strategy. You know those boys are different from alot of the students here, maybe you just need to think of somethin' different, just really sit down and think about what would really help them."

Mr. Krupp sniffled violently, and looked up at his girlfriend from her chest. "You know? You're right. I'll think of something. Uh, thanks, thanks alot Edith."

"Of course, puddin' pop. But if I ever see you lockin' a kid in a room again I'm gonna smack you with one of my mary-janes."


	4. Yin

With the safety of their new hamster in mind, Harold and George tucked their skateboards into their backpacks and walked home from school at a peaceful pace. Earlier while the rest of Jerome Horwitz was preoccupied with Ms. Ribble’s retirement party, the two boys were free to stock up on packs of sunflower seeds and bananas from the cafeteria for Sulu to snack on. On their raid, they almost emptied the school’s entire supply of sunflower seed packs - they were a delicacy, and George and Harold wanted some too. 

When George and Harold returned to their respective classes after “recess,” they noticed something strange; their class Sneedlys were missing. The boys weren’t too concerned, however. It wasn’t the best day for the Sneedly triplets, with Melvin lashing out, Lewis feeling humiliated, and Marvin having burst into tears so many times. They figured an adult must’ve ordered they go home the second they ran screaming from the invention room and phoned Mr. and Mrs. Sneedly right away. Now, George and Harold were halfway down the block Jerome Horwitz took root and were getting farther, skateboards and snacks in their backpacks and Sulu tucked safely in George’s shirt pocket.

“Just wait ‘til our parents hear the news!” Said George excitedly, crunching down on a handful of sunflower seeds after letting Sulu pack his cheeks from it first.

Harold allowed himself, strictly, one banana and began peeling it after getting it out of his backpack. “The news about our day off tomorrow or the news about Sulu?” Asked Harold.

“Both!” George said through his mouthful of sunflower seeds before swallowing.

“I’m personally excited for tomorrow, maybe we could start the barbeque earlier than planned now that our parents won’t have to wait for us to get home.”

“We could start the barbeque early,” George went on, “or, we could finish Captain Underpants the Origin Issue…”

Harold reeled in a long and drawn out gasp. “We could!” Harold said. “I’m gonna get started on drawing it today.”

George promptly turned his attention to their cheek-stuffed hamster and scratched his little head. “Hey Sulu are you--” Suddenly, there was a shrill disruptive noise that hung in the air with the intensity of a fire alarm, and it was getting louder. George and Harold wildly looked around eachother for the source, after they concluded nothing had been harmed by traffic, their eyes landed on a bus whirring down the street. As it drew nearer, the cries became more distinct, and the two boys realised without an ounce of doubt, as they spotted Marvin hanging from an open bus window and his identical brothers clutching onto him for his dear life, that the cries were actually a human in distress. Or three to be more specific.

“SULU!” All three of them screamed, voices dimming by the fast-growing distance between the bus they rode and the two boys who took their hamster.

Harold, George and Sulu watched the scene whir farther and farther away down the street. “Huh,” said George.

“Hey, George?” Asked Harold.

They didn’t take their eyes off the bus until it turned and disappeared behind trees and houses. “Yeah, Harold?” 

“I think the Sneedlys want Sulu back.”

George thoughtfully pet Sulu’s little head. “Hm,” he said. 

When George and Harold arrived at the treehouse, they hung their backpacks on a plunger comedically stuck to the wall and went to hamster-proofing the place as best they could. They gathered up all the food carelessly lying about the floor on their own plates and piled it ontop of one, stacking the rest to take back to George’s house. Harold took the plate with all the snacks they were planning on finishing and set it down on the old coffee table they worked on. He plucked a two-day-old snickerdoodle from the pile and shamelessly stuffed the whole thing into his mouth. 

“I can’t believe we got school off tomorrow!!” George squeaked excitedly while scaling back up the ladder. 

Harold perked up at the sound of George’s voice and turned from the snack pile to face him in the front doorway. “I can’t believe we actually got to change an official school paper like that!” He said, getting a prompt shushing from George.

“If anybody knows it was us, we’re dead.” George said in an anxious whisper.

Harold went rosy. “We’re in our treehouse though, nobody else ever comes in here!” 

At that very moment, Harold and George froze like a pair of baby deer in the middle of the street at the sound of Harold’s mother shouting from the Huchins’ backyard, “ _OLLY OLLY OXENFREE!!”_

The intensity of her voice was just enough to send their heads spinning. Their minds both sifted through different explanations, thinking Ms. Hutchins was calling for them, oh surely they had been found out and would be punished for meddling, until they heard the sound of their hammock creaking and a blanket falling to the floor where Heidi uncovered herself and went tottering for the back window to reveal herself to her mother.

“I found the PERFECT hiding place, you’d NEVER find me!!” Heidi taunted, head out the window and chubby arms outstretched to catch Ms. Hutchins’ attention. Her back faced George and Harold with little regard for the previous notion that the two actually had privacy in their own treehouse.

“Heidi?!” George said with great offence.

“NOBODY’S SUPPOSED TO COME IN HERE!” Harold shouted with his hands tossed high.

“Y’know I guess if you asked nicely though,” George added.

“Yeah,” Harold agreed, “that’s reasonable. But TRESPASSING???” 

"You guys weren’t here when I came…” Heidi said, finally noticing the rightful owners of her previous hiding spot had arrived. She turned away from the window to face them with her tiny fingers grabbing for eachother and her tangly snarls of blonde hair that matched Harold’s. “Mommy was finding me everywhere and this was the only place I knew I could win.”

“Awwwww,” George placed a hand over his chest in sympathy.

“Alright, we’ll let you off the hook this time, but next time you can’t come in unless we’re here” Harold said firmly with his hands on his hips.

“Okay,” Said Heidi.

The three children heard the sound of Ms. Hutchins climbing onto the recycling bin placed infront of the treehouse’s back window, and she peeked in at them with her own golden curls spilling over her shoulders and partially fraying out weightless into the sunlight. “You’re getting better at hiding!” Ms. Hutchins cheered, reaching out to snatch her daughter through the window and leave George and Harold to eachother. “I’ll hide this time.” Was the last thing George and Harold heard before Ms. Hutchins and Heidi were out of earshot.

“We almost died.” Said George with a faint voice.

“Yeah we did.” Said Harold, heading for their backpacks to retrieve the snacks they gathered for their hamster, “Hey! Since we didn’t make it to Ms. Ribble’s retirement party, do you wanna know what was in that phoney card I made?”

George watched Harold dump endless heaps of sunflower seed bags and bananas onto their table with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. “You mean you got it to the party?” He asked, taking Sulu out of his shirt pocket and setting him down to explore his new home.

“Yeah! I got Mr. Krupp to take it by using this psychological thing, I think it was called the placenta affect.” Harold said, cooly leaning against their table.

What Harold was actually referring to was _'Reverse Psychology.'_

George ate it up. “That's so cool!” He said.

“Yeah.” Harold smiled. “Oh, right, the card went a little like, ‘Dear Ms. Ribble, you’re one hot mama," Harold fluttered his eyelashes and clasped his hands together for special affect, earning a growing chuckle from George, "will you marry me? Love, Edith Anthrope.’”

George cacklingly punched Harold in the shoulder. “I can’t believe we missed that, they must’ve been so embarrassed!”

“Dude, George? We’re on a roll. We got that, the forecasting board, _and_ Spirit Week, and we didn’t even get caught!”

“And now guess what?” George said as he plopped himself down onto a beanbag. 

“Chicken butt?” Harold guessed.

“Good guess but no.” George almost folded his hands over his stomach, but suddenly Harold was rocketing into him and they were both sharing a beanbag chair. “We’re gonna celebrate with a relaxing day off, and good old Captain Underpants.”

They were asleep before they knew it.

 ---

George whipped himself awake with a snorkling sound and he sat up, feeling Sulu tumble down from his chest and into his lap. “Oh, Sulu,” George said tiredly, cupping the startled hamster in his hand. “We weren’t 'sposed to go to sleep, that was an accident,”

George’s eyes wandered to a window of the treehouse. The sky had turned into a sweeping landscape of magenta, orange and purple. 

“How long were we asleep?!” George said, scowling at the air infront of him.

“Hm?” Harold sucked in a sharp breath of air and peeled his face off of the beanbag to look at George with droopy eyes. “I dunno,” he yawned. “I bet we could stay up all night now.”

“We should. Harold, do you feel like working on the origin issue right now?” George asked, returning Harold’s tired gaze.

Harold smiled. “George, I _always_ feel like working on any of our comics.”

“Good, ‘cuz I just got a last minute idea and I’m 100% sure you’re gonna like it.”

 

It was 7:45 when George and Harold got back to work, and 12:00 when they finished their comic that depicted the beginnings of Captain Underpants and Wedgie Woman who had been rebranded to be his number one mortal enemy, along with Jackson and O’hara, Captain’s adoptive fathers who were no longer human, but dolphins instead. 

George was right, Harold loved Captain Underpants’ dolphin dads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the length of this one. This chapter and chapter 5 are both little pieces of right before the incoming shitstorm caused by George and Harold hits the shores. Writing's been slow going since I've moved to a new place and the holidays came and went, but trust me, I've been plotting and planning on and off for this fic and we're going to have a finished story here. No matter how long it takes my incompetent ass.


	5. Yang

Melvin trudged out of the room he shared with his other two brothers, squinting through the brazen sunlight reflecting off of nearly every surface of his home. The bleached-pumpkin orange walls of the hallway that lead to the living room seemed to amplify the intensity of the natural light soaking in. His sight adjusted by the time he entered the kitchen, tiny feet padding across the cold tile floor. Melvin wearily trekked over to the dining room table where his two brothers were sitting and having breakfast, pulling the chair out with a wooden _skree_ and plopping down into the antique cushion. Lewis was dipping microwaved bacon in some nutella he had slapped onto a small plate. Marvin had tried Lewis’ concoction, but he stuck to his own bowl of fruit loops.

“I’m too tired to make myself breakfast…” Melvin croaked with extra patheticness in his voice, eyes glued to the wood of the table. “Marvin, you have to pour me a bowl of cereal.”

Melvin’s ears were assaulted by the most hoarse and breathless groan he ever heard. He jerked up to see that his brothers had turned a sickly pale hue and their eyes glowed like beady white voids. They slouched in their seats, Marvin leaning against the backrest with his head tilted down and Lewis scrunched up on the table with his chin having plopped into his dish of nutella. Melvin gasped, fully awake now and eyes wide open.

“What’s wrong with you guys? You’re not supposed to be like this!!” Melvin cried out, attention darting from milky eye to milky eye.

“We know how you really want us to be.” Lewis muttered under his breath like he were half asleep.

“We changed back for you.” Marvin said, staring at Melvin with those empty clouded eyes.

“NO!!” Melvin shreiked, breath coming in ragged gasps. “No, I didn’t want...” He gulped and watched in terror as his brothers endlessly stared up at him with their bottomless eyes. Somehow Melvin had forgotten how to scream. He sucked in the deepest breath he could, but he could only let out frightened puffs of air. He continued to glance between his brothers’ overcast irises, feeling a burn in his own eyes as they welled up with tears. 

“How do you live like this, Melvin?” 

Melvin jolted awake in a half-spoken whisper. His eyes snapped wide open in the dark room he shared with Marvin and Lewis who were, Melvin desperately wanted to convince himself, still their same old selves before Professor Poopypants had tampered with the structure of their brains. Lewis’ uproarious snoring, though being one of his default traits, provided a little more comfort for Melvin. He sat up in his bed, pressing his back into the headboard and reaching to the right for his glasses that were perched on his nightstand, unable to calm himself down. He looked over in his brothers’ direction. They slept soundly in their own beds nearby. Marvin’s head rested peacefully on his ice cold pillow, a footie-pajama’d leg stuck out from underneath his sheet and plush comforter. Lewis’ whole body lay sideways over his mattress, blanket only covering his chest and legs dangling over the bed. The sight provided little comfort for the youngest Sneedly, that was how they normally slept. If they were somehow to revert back into those soulless husks from all those months ago, Melvin wouldn’t know until their eyes opened in the morning. He kept his eyes on Marvin who was closest to him. When he felt strong enough to stand, Melvin slipped out of bed and tiptoed for the middle triplet.

This would be the umpteenth time Melvin had done this after having such a momentously specific nightmare. Although the embarrassment was stronger each time he found himself once again shaking Marvin awake, but the sense of utter necessity to check on his brothers overpowered the internalized shame of acting in such a manner he himself would dub juvenile.

“Marvin?” Melvin whispered.

“Mmm?” 

“Marvin, open your eyes,”

Marvin’s lids painfully blinked open, and he looked up at his identical brother who loomed over him. There was no milky glow when Marvin looked up at him. Like always. Not a surprise. And that meant Lewis was the same as well. Melvin could go back to bed now, and that pang of embarrassment finally washed over him at full force. He turned without a word. “Mmm, wait a minute,” Marvin rasped, blindly nabbing the soft fabric of Melvin’s flannel. 

“Go back to sleep, Marvin.” Melvin said, yanking his sleeve free.

“Something’s bothering you.” 

This would be the first time Marvin had tried to coax Melvin back after being checked on.

Melvin defensively turned to face Marvin with his arms crossed. “What’s so wrong with me checking up on you two?” Melvin snapped voicelessly, “You guys do the same thing. Now go back to sleep.” He reached his bed and removed his glasses, folding them and setting them back down on his nightstand. 

After Melvin was settled in his bed, Marvin sat up. He slid off of his bed, footie-pajama’d feet touching down on the wooden floor. He crept over to Melvin’s bed and clambered on, resting up against the headboard next to his brother and slinking his hands over his stomach.

“I think I’d like to sleep over here.” Marvin said with a peaceful smile on his face.

“I didn’t invite you on my bed.” Melvin said, face buried in his blanket.

Marvin rolled onto his side, squirming down to lay level with his brother. “What are you worried is going to be wrong with my eyes?” 

“That’s unimportant, go to sleep stupid!” 

“Clearly not unimportant if it's had you waking me up every now and then for the past few weeks, but okay.” Marvin slung an arm over Melvin, nuzzling into his brother’s shoulder and closing his eyes.

“Not on me!” Melvin shouted, muffled by his blanket. Marvin proceeded to snore loudly, aiming himself at Melvin’s ear. “ _NooooOOOO!”_ The youngest triplet’s voice was still muffled by his blanket, but it was loud enough to bother someone in a different room. Melvin and Marvin both fell silent at the sound of someone pounding on their wall from the opposite side; even Lewis’ snoring had stopped at the belligerent blows. Melvin rolled over to face Marvin now, kicking his blanket off of himself. “Great, now mommy and poppa are awake. Are you happy now, Marvin?” Melvin whispered.

“No.” Said Marvin, matching Melvin’s hushed volume. “Why do you keep checking on me in the middle of the night?”

Someone whispered behind them. “What’s going on over here you guys?” Marvin and Melvin turned to see the fuzzed silhouette of Lewis standing behind them. Probably with his blanket wrapped over his shoulders. Neither Melvin nor Marvin could tell, they weren't wearing their glasses..

“Great, now the whole house is awake.” Melvin said, daring to raise his grumbling voice a decibel, and flipping back over to face the wall.

“Lewis, Melvin’s been obsessively waking me up in the middle of the night to check that I’m not dead before going back to bed.” Marvin pointedly explained to Lewis the second Melvin had turned away.

“Well that’s caring of him. Hey Melvin, why didn’t you check to see if _Lewis_ was alive either?” Lewis asked, crawling up on the foot on Melvin’s bed and poking roughly at the soles of his feet. “Huh?”

Melvin retracted his feet into himself and whipped up into a sitting position, glaring at what he could see of his brothers - shadowed blotches that fuzzily blended into the rest of the unclear room - and saying, “I wasn’t checking to see if you were dead, vegetable head!” 

“Don’t be mad, Melvin!” Marvin susurrated. “Just explain yourself please.”

“I don’t want to! And I’m not being obsessive, just let me check on you sometimes okay?”

“Lewis promises he won’t make fun of you for whatever it is.” Lewis quietly assured Melvin.

Melvin gulped, he wasn’t going to be able to hide what had been haunting him from his brothers for much longer. “Um, can I just say I don’t wanna talk about it and you’ll be satisfied?”

“Lots of simple scientific studies suggest you’ll feel better if you do, though.” Marvin patted his distressed brother's foot. The foot that had been patted tapped in place anxiously.

“Well, the only reason I’m not checking on you Lewis is because Marvin’s closer and as long as I know he’s okay, I know you’re okay as well.” His face grew hot at the words coming out of his mouth.

Lewis and Marvin shared a confused glance. “What are you worried is going to happen to us?”

“You know what? It’s incredibly irrational,” Melvin yawned, “why don’t I elaborate tomorrow when we’re not all so tired, hm?”

“Alrighty then.” Lewis said, starting to creep off of Melvin’s bed when Marvin tugged on his blanket as if to say: _“Let’s stay here with him.”_ Lewis eased back onto the mattress and splayed himself out, mirroring the way he had previously been sound asleep in his own bed. Marvin layed down next.

“Whenever you’re ready, baby brother.” Marvin said, trying to share Melvin’s pillow before giving up and closing his eyes.


End file.
